


5 Times Peter Thought Tony Was Mad

by caraminha



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Grief/Mourning, I killed may parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, and the dad of the year award goes to.... TONY STARK, i love her loads honestly, no iw spoilers dw, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caraminha/pseuds/caraminha
Summary: ... and one time he actually was.(That trope we all know and love!) Set a few months after Aunt May's death where Tony is Peter's legal guardian.Navigating a new life together and settling into being father and son is a rollercoaster - falling in love with the kid? Easy.Dealing with a grieving teenager, and trying to figure out how to do this whole parent thing? Uh... not so easy.How could I resist when this fandom literally lives and breathes 5+1s?!





	1. The Principal's Office

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! 
> 
> Now, I know what you're thinkin: YES, I should be writing Keep Your Friends Close. But I SWEAR I AM, DON'T WORRY. I just have a thousand other little plots flying about my head that I thought would be best satisfied with a good ol' 5+1. Right?
> 
> Right.
> 
> Probably, anyway.
> 
> Enjoy!

  
The roof of his mouth throbbed as he signed the school entry register - he'd gotten the call just as he'd poured himself a cup of coffee and, like any caffeine addict worth their salt, had decided not to let it go to waste. 

  
In his rush he'd downed the piping hot mug (inscribed, ' _My Wallet's In My Other Suit_ ' in Comic Sans above some dodgy Iron Man clipart, bought for him by Peter last Christmas, before… everything) without a second thought and had almost spat it out down the silk tie he was Windsor-knotting. 

  
Oh well. Still worth it. He had a sneaking feeling he'd need all the energy he could get for this.

  
Running his tongue across the blister beginning to form on his hard palate, he clasped his hands in front of him and _ahem_ -ed for the secretary's attention. 

  
She cast him a mildly disapproving glance, so he bunched his lips together into a smile and raised his eyebrows above his sunglasses to appease her. "Shall we?"

  
She led him onto an empty, echoing corridor with windows running the entire length of one side, casting bright early-afternoon light down it and overlooking the school field in the distance.

  
About three-quarters of the way down, on a wooden bench, sat Peter. Tony felt the lump in his throat settle when he caught sight of him. He sighed sadly.

  
Peter didn't react when he heard them approaching and just carried on staring directly ahead of him at the oak tree outside the window.

  
The tree blocked most of the sunlight, meaning he was sitting in the only patch of shade on the entire corridor. If Tony were a poetic man, he'd have mused on the pathetic fallacy of it all. 

  
Flecks of light that escaped through the leaves decorated Peter's body and face. He blinked slowly, squinting when the wind blew the leaves and the light hit his eyes. A few spring-sun freckles were starting to make their presence known on his nose and cheeks.

  
Despite everything, Peter looked calm.

  
However, calm, Tony knew, did not necessarily mean _at peace_ when it came to Peter.

  
Nope.

  
Calm in Peter Parker's world was a product of being forced through unbearable situation after unbearable situation. Calm was putting your head in your hands and saying nothing at all till everyone stopped talking at you and about you, finally leaving you to cry in private. 

  
Calm was silently waiting for the doctor to find you sitting alone on a hospital corridor bench to tell you what you already knew: _I'm so sorry, Peter. She's gone. We did everything we could._

  
He pushed the paralleled imagery to the back of his mind when he reached him, going to stand directly in Peter's line of view with his arms crossed. He schooled his expression into blankness.

  
Peter blinked up at him, eyes empty. 

  
He was twisting his trembling hands together so aggressively that his skin was going red. Tony's shadow cast him entirely into shade and it made it easier to see that though Peter hadn't cried, the _'yet'_ was a definite lingering threat.

  
He swallowed as if he was going to say something, with Tony simultaneously going to interrupt whatever it was he was about to say, when they were both interrupted by the secretary exiting the office beside them. "You can go in."

  
Peter stood and went in, his shoulders squared and head high. A flicker of pride ignited in Tony at that. 

  
He followed suit, exuding as much Stark confidence as his worry-preoccupied mind could manage.

  
"Mr Stark, can I get you a drink?" The secretary asked before she shut the door.

  
"Oh, god, please. Tea, plenty of sugar. Thanks Tracy." He wasn't sure if that was her name.

  
He refrained from draping himself in the chair and instead sat up straight, professionally, one leg over the other. Pepper-like.

  
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr Stark. I hope you haven't abandoned anything important to be here." Principal Ainsley was leaning forward on his elbows, hands steepled as though he was psychoanalysing the student-guardian combo before him.

  
"Nothing world-ending, if that's what you mean." Tony supplied drily.

  
"Of course," Ainsley laughed politely and leaned back, eyeing the file marked **PARKER, Peter** before him. "Well, I don't want to beat around the bush, so let's get to it."

  
"I'd be grateful for it." 

  
"Well. I'm sure you're aware that Peter has been with us for just over two months now, and I think it's safe to say that we've had a rough start. Would you say that, Peter?" 

  
Peter nodded uneasily, maybe apologetically. He was jogging his knee restlessly.

  
Tony noticed that he didn't actually look away from the hole he was clearly hoping to burn into the carpet. He swallowed when Principal Ainsley didn't resume speaking right away. Both men were regarding him and it was obvious he hated it. 

  
Realising this, Tony turned his attention back to Ainsley pointedly. Ainsley, taking the hint or not, continued.

  
"I like to think I'm a fair Principal, Mr Stark, and because of that I feel that Peter has had more than his fair share of chances to get his act together. I understand that he's had maybe a harder time than most, but when I accepted him into this school, I took him on his… _vast_ intelligence, and- and the absolute pages and pages of _glowing_ character references his old school provided for him. His work ethic, his grades, his extracurricular activities… I thought I'd hit the jackpot with you, Peter. I really did."

  
Tony felt his stomach twisting in anxiety. Peter had said he'd wanted to move schools, from Midtown to here. He said that being back at his old school was too painful, and too far from the compound to travel every day. That as long as he still saw Ned and MJ, this was for the best.

  
But the past couple of months had him bringing it up several times: _had_ he wanted to?

  
He'd asked Peter, of course he had. The thing he wanted the most in the world was to do right by his kid, and if he'd said so, he'd have packed up and moved back to the city, back to Midtown, in an instant.

  
But Peter had said no. That he was happy here.

  
"Peter, I want to know what's going on. All I want is for you to be straight with me. Because, frankly, your behaviour has been really disappointing and not at all what we stand for here. And now I've had to call your Dad in-"

  
Peter flinched. He'd never called Tony Dad before. Tony didn't know if that was something that would ever happen. He certainly didn't entertain the idea of it, because of that. Because he respected Peter.

  
An awkward air settled as Ainsley began to continue but it was suddenly broken when the secretary returned with the cup of tea on a saucer, a biscuit by it.

  
"Here you go, Mr Stark."

  
"Thank you kindly." 

  
Tony took it from her and immediately passed it to Peter as he popped the biscuit into his mouth whole, all in one smooth motion.

  
Peter's eyes met his for a second and the ghost of a grateful smile passed his features. Though he wanted to return the smile, Tony simply turned back to Ainsley, who looked put-off and as though he was ready to comment. 

  
Tony cocked his head to the side and lifted his hand in a gesture to continue.

  
Tea always made Peter feel a little better. 

  
Ainsley gathered himself in an inhale. "You have friends here, don't you, Peter? I hear you can be a friendly boy when you want to."

  
Peter rubbed his shaking thumb down the cup. He hesitated. "Yeah, I guess so."

  
"So, come on. Help me out here. Why are you getting into fights? Why are you helping people cheat on homework assignments, Peter?" Tony froze. He didn't know about this. He knew Peter had fought off a few kids in the past weeks, but he didn't know Peter had been… cheating? Moral Compass Personified Peter Parker would never have had anything to do with cheating in the past. 

  
"Undermiming teacher's authority, interrupting and answering back when they're disciplining other students. Skipping classes? I really don't get it, Peter. Enlighten me."

  
Peter huffed a shuddering breath. 

  
Ainsley made no move to speak up, and uncomfortable silence filled the room like treacle.

  
Ainsley looked at him and bit his cheek. He shrugged at Tony.

  
"Peter." Tony said quietly. "You got nothing to say about this?"

  
Peter swallowed loudly, miserable. 

  
"Because I gotta say, I agree with Principal Ainsley. This is _so_ not you. And I don't like it. At all."

  
Ainsley seemed satisfied with being sided with finally, and he turned to his computer and began typing. It was obvious he was playing the patented, passive-aggressive 'I'll wait.' teacher game.

  
Peter took a sip of his tea then set it back on the saucer. He hunched over it in his lap and looked about as small as Tony had ever seen him. 

  
He wanted to say _something_ , Tony knew. He had that exasperated expression plastered all over his face.

  
It was breaking Tony's goddamn heart.

  
Shit. He hated this so much. He wanted the old Peter back.

  
He thought he'd been getting through to him, that he'd broken down a bit of the exterior - the fortified wall that was protecting sunny, cheerful, bubbly, excitable Peter. 

  
_His_ Peter.

  
But then, since he'd started this school, it'd all started to fall apart. He was closing back into himself when Tony had worked so hard to unfold him slowly, carefully, like tissue paper, so he wouldn't tear.

  
May had probably never been called into the Principal's office. Peter was probably imagining her disappointment right now. 

  
"You have a bullying problem." 

  
Tony was pulled from his spiralling morbidity all of a sudden. He and Ainsley met eyes for a second. The other man visibly pushed down his affrontedness and span his chair to face Peter again, as if it was a reward. 

  
"How so?"

  
Peter had been calculating these words for a while. "The kids here are sly. It's like something from a book, or something. At Midtown, kids teased other kids for a while, then it'd go too far, then they'd have a fight. They'd get in trouble, and that was it, it was over. Here, it's so different. I don't know."

  
Tony held his breath as Peter talked and his pulse was going a mile a minute. If he knew Peter at all, he knew where this was going. His heart swelled with affection for the kid.

  
"You're going to need to elaborate Peter. I'm listening." Ainsley prompted. Peter drank back the final dregs of his tea and set it on the desk.

  
"On my first day, I sat next to Hallie, and she's _so_ smart. Like, a super maths whizz. It's incredible. I'm good at maths - everyone here is, obviously - but she's somethin' else. But we were in English. And she's not so good at that. I think she's letter dyslexic, maybe? The kids in there passed mean notes to her written all jumbled up and laughed under their breaths when she asked questions, and when she had to read part of a passage out, they all pretended to fall asleep and called her a retard and stuff. Seven or eight kids."

  
Ainsley remained silent.

  
"And another kid, I don't know his name. They threw water all on his pants and under his chair before class and told everyone he'd wet himself when they were coming in. He tried to tell the teacher but she just told him to stop messing around and just trying for an excuse to get out of class, that the kids he was blaming were all the way at the back so they couldnt've have done it, and gave him detention." 

  
Peter was staring Ainsley down, but his tone was sympathetic. 

  
By what he was saying, Tony would've expected him to be angry and accusatory. But even now, even faced with dire consequences, Peter was gentle. 

  
Tony was in awe at how big this kid's heart was.

  
"And those aren't just two isolated incidents. Things like this are happening everyday in every class I have. And… I don't like bullies. So I had to do something, you know? I don't like starting fights, or making enemies, at all. I swear. But I couldn't just allow that right under my nose."

  
"So, instead of coming to a teacher, you decided to pick fights with not only students but the teachers themselves." Ainsley deadpanned. 

  
"I said I was book smart, not street smart." Peter smiled sheepishly, warily. He was coming into his own a little and his hands weren't shaking anymore - the sugary tea had done its job. "Snitching to the teachers isn't usually a good way to make friends with the bullied _or_ the bullies."

  
Ainsley nodded curtly. "I don't like to say I understand, but I do. So where does the homework come into this?"

  
"Hallie needed English help. I wouldn't call it cheating. I just helped her, and we got similar answers. I didn't do it for her, I swear I just guided her. And then a few other kids heard about it. So I helped them too." Peter shrugged like it was obvious. "That was one of the reasons I fought with Mr Callahan - because he didn't believe me. He thought I was doing it for money, didn't he." 

  
"That's what he said." Ainsley sighed. "Wow. Okay. I'll be honest; that was not what I expected to come out of your mouth. Well, maybe it was. But it all makes more sense now." He sort-of laughed. "I don't know whether to apologise to you or punish you." 

  
Peter shrank a little. 

  
"I think I'm going to do both."

  
Tony bit his tongue - _hard_ \- to prevent himself from arguing injustice. This was Peter's situation, not his.

  
"So I'm going to give you a 2 day suspension for your behaviour. But. And I mean this, genuinely. I'm sorry, Peter. That after everything you've gone through, we, inadvertently as it was, put you through this. I'm not happy with how you dealt with it, but you did."

  
"My Aunt always told me to stick up for the little guy." Peter said quietly.

  
Tony almost gasped. Peter hadn't spoken about May since the funeral. Something small, but heavy, lifted from his shoulders.

  
"She sounds like a smart woman. But let's work on how to help the little guy _together_ , shall we?"

* * *

  
Peter had to go and grab some stuff from his locker so Tony met him in the parking lot. He leaned against the hood silently, waiting for him. It was nice here - everyone had left and the sun was going down.

  
As he approached, he didn't make eye contact with Tony. In fact, he walked straight past him, throwing his gym bag and backpack into the trunk before going to open the passenger side door.

  
When Tony didn't budge, however, he paused.

  
Then he moved to the front of the car. 

  
He stood a couple metres away from Tony.

  
He stuck his hands in his pockets and made patterns in the dirt with the tip of his shoe. "Hi."

  
"Hi."

  
When Peter looked up, his eyes were shining with tears. 

  
Whoa. He hadn't expected that. 

  
"You're mad, aren't you?" Peter started twisting his hands together again and his breath hitched. "I'm so sorry, Tony. I screwed up."

  
Tony was taken aback. He didn't know what to say, but he didn't have to, because Peter continued before he could.

  
"You've been so good to me, so, _so_ good, and I've just thrown it all in your face. I've shut off from you, and been a total disrespectful little shit, and I made you come out here, and _now_ I've been fucking _suspended_." Tears were flowing now and he shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed, throwing his head back to stare at the sky and will the tears back in. "You probably regret this whole thing."

  
That was enough.

  
Tony closed the gap between them with one long stride and pulled Peter straight into his chest. Peter almost recoiled in surprise but settled into the embrace fast, pressing his face into the crook of Tony's neck. Tony squeezed him hard and pushed his nose into his hair. "No."

  
"No?" Peter shakily mumbled.

  
" _No,_ Peter. Never."

  
Peter's arms were squeezing him so tight he could barely breathe. 

  
"From the moment I met you, Peter, I've never regretted a single thing." 

  
Peter let out a broken sob. "But, this-"

  
"If this has done anything, it's made me realise how proud I am of you. Every single day. You're the best person I know. Honestly. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that school shit."

  
Peter huffed a laugh but didn't reply. They stayed latched together for a long while, just listening to the trees and the passing cars. Tony started carding his fingers through Peter's curls. 

  
"D'you think May would be proud?" Peter voiced uncertainly after a while.

  
"She never stopped being, buddy. She's your biggest fan."

  
Peter pulled away, nodding. Tony looked him in the eyes, asking for a silent confirmation that he was okay. Peter smiled.

  
Tony squeezed his shoulder and steered him towards the car.

  
"Let's go get dinner. Feel like I've been at this school forever."

  
"Yeah," Peter chuckled humourlessly, "me too."

  
Tony paused at the door. "Do you like it here, Peter?"

  
Peter hesitated. Tony saw the way his jaw shifted when he was about to stretch the truth. "Yeah. I do."

  
"More than Midtown?"

  
"… no."

  
"You wanna go back?"

  
"Tony, we can't just do that."

  
"Uh… yes, we can. Billionaire. Do you remember? Or do I need to get your head checked?"

  
Peter smirked as he dropped into the car, Tony following on the opposite side.

  
"So is that a yes, Peter?"

  
"Are you sure?"

  
"God, _yes_ I'm sure. When have I _ever_ been indecisive, huh? Let's do it."

  
"Okay." Peter grinned. Tony grinned back. _There_ he was. 

  
Tony gunned the engine whilst Peter pulled his phone from his pocket, definitely texting MJ and Ned to let them know the good news. Within 30 seconds, his phone was pinging with excited messages.

  
"Thai?"

  
"Thai."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting comments emails gives me LIFE so please do let me know what you think!!!!  
> Love you all <3


	2. April 13th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH THANK YOU FOR THE LOVELY RESPONSE ESPECIALLY THE COMMENTS I TREASURE EACH ONE  
> SENDING YOU ALL LOVE AND HUGS
> 
> a note: judging by a lot of the comments that im getting (which are all 100% positive so <3 for that), this chapter struck more of a chord in terms of having lost someone and grief than i was expecting - so if that may be something you're not quite comfortable with, maybe give this one a miss and i'll see you next chapter <3 loads of love

  
Today was a hard day.

  
Well, Peter guessed, every day since May had been gone was a hard day.

  
If he was being honest, he was hoping and waiting for some lightbulb moment where _it all gets better,_ like Tony keeps telling him. That'd be nice. Preferable, even.

  
But today… that seemed kind of impossible. _Way_ impossible.

  
Because today was May's birthday.

  
It's made all the more difficult by the fact that he's had her present for months - since way before she died, it'd been hidden at the bottom of his wardrobe, underneath his sleeping bag, tucked behind the box for the perfectly good printer he'd found dumpster diving that just needed a few little adjustments to get it up and running. Then it… uh… decided to practically spontaneously combust 2 days later. 

  
May hadn't been overjoyed at that. Peter kept it all the same, so they could laugh about it in the future. 

  
He felt like he'd be choking back that true, snorting, can-hardly-breathe laugh forever now that he'd never hear her wheezing alongside him again.

  
Happy had been the one to bring all his stuff from the apartment. He didn't discriminate - just brought everything and they'd told Peter that whenever he was ready, they'd help him sort through it.

  
He didn't say it, but Peter didn't know if he'd ever be ready. 

  
It was funny. The second Happy had finished bringing all the boxes through, Peter didn't even hesitate before diving in, pulling the gift out and heading straight for his room, ignoring Tony's soft, silent, sad gaze that followed him the whole way. 

  
It'd been in his new closet ever since.

  
Then, when they'd moved back to the city, back to Midtown, it was transferred from his _new_ closet to his _new new_ closet. 

  
He didn't really look at it, just shoved it in the pocket of his winter coat and shut the door behind him. 

  
And he wasn't sure why. He guessed he just really wanted some sort of continuation of normality, of home.

  
So, when April 1st hit, it brought that sinking hopelessness to Peter's stomach (along with the April Fools' pranks, of course - Tony swapped out Happy's cell phone and sent out fliers with the new number on, asking people to leave voicemails of their best Chewbacca impressions, because the winner would earn $1000. Happy lost his mind.)

  
May's birthday was April 13th, and for the entire 2 weeks he'd just felt so… _sad_. He honestly missed her so much that it physically hurt sometimes.

  
And it was scaring him. 

  
How easy it was for him to slip back into his full-frontal grief, like a familiar blanket wrapping round him and blocking the outside light.

  
It was definitely easier, he'd realised, to carry on harbouring the emptiness and pain than it was to attempt getting over it. It was tiring to try and feel better, and it felt like an insult to May's memory.

  
He knew that that would be the polar opposite of what she'd want for him. He just didn't have the energy.

  
She'd been taken from him with no warning or planning, so how could he know what she wanted anyway? It was so unfair.

  
That was why he was certain Tony knew what he was doing.

  
He hated hurting Tony, he really, really did. And he didn't mean to. Of course he didn't.

  
From the moment he'd found him with the social worker, too inconsolable to even _breathe, Peter, you need to breathe_ , Tony slowly became the thing that made him feel okay.

  
He felt so selfish, and stupid, when he got caught up in his sadness, because Tony was giving him so much and _was_ so much. Tony made him feel safe when he thought he couldn't, laugh when he thought he shouldn't, all without being overbearing or cringey or clingy or soppy. That was Tony Stark. 

  
That's why he couldn't stand to be around Tony right now: Peter didn't feel like feeling better right now. He felt like being left alone and crying a lot.

  
Tony balanced his awkward reluctance to overstep with his genuine affection quite well. 

  
He'd definitely gotten better at knowing what to say, and Peter really didn't feel like he deserved to hear that right now.

  
He missed Tony but that was something he'd just have to deal with. 

  
Till after May's birthday, at least.

  
Sitting on the floor of his closet, knees drawn to his chest, held by the 6am silence and flipping over the now-unwrapped jewellery box in his hand, he wondered how long a regular grief period lasted.

  
"FRIDAY? You awake?"

  
"Of course, Peter. What do you need?" Peter was certain that if he wasn't crying in a walk-in closet right now, FRIDAY would've almost-sarcastically reminded him that she was an AI, so duh, of course she was awake.

  
"Can you Google something for me?"

  
"Go ahead."

  
"Is this normal? Do… do other people grieve for 4 months?"

  
FRIDAY didn't reply for a few seconds. Peter hoped she was just collaborating a succinct answer for him. "I'm not sure that the grief period is something you can put statistics to, Peter."

  
"Please, FRI." He voice cracked.

  
"I can't find anything specific on how long grieving lasts. Almost every website says that any length of time is healthy as long as you're actively seeking help, like a grief counsellor. You have been in emotional distress for half an hour, Peter. Should I wake Boss for you?"

  
Peter's heart leapt into his mouth. "No! No, it's okay. Don't do that. I just wanna be alone right now. Anyway, he'd be mad if I woke him up." He mumbled.

  
"What makes you think he'd be angry? If you need help, this is something he'd want to know."

  
Peter curled his toes and smushed them against the carpet. He settled his head back on the wall with a _thunk_ and closed his eyes. His head was really starting to hurt - crying always gave him a headache. It wasn't an illness, so his enhanced body couldn't fight it off like everything else.

  
"Nah, no, it's not- it isn't like that. He _is_ mad at me, because I've been hiding from him and I keep lying that I have homework and cancelling our plans, I go out patrolling just to avoid him and he even organised this whole boat trip for me at Easter and I blew him off." 

  
"That trip's been rearranged, hasn't it?"

  
"Yeah, but that's not the _point_. I'm pretty sure he gets pissed off when he asks how I am and I say 'fine' because he doesn't ask as much anymore, he just looks at me like I'm gonna break and-and-" He tried to cut himself off when he started tearing up again. "Maybe I am broken, FRIDAY. Why can't I just feel better? He didn't sign up for this, it's not his fault. It's my fault because I can't stop _crying_!" 

  
In his frustration, he threw the box across the room and it crashed against the wall, falling open as it hit the floor. 

  
Heart thumping at his outburst, he crawled over to it quickly and scooped up the locket. He shuddered a breath when the cool metal touched his fingers.

  
"I'm so sorry you feel like this, Peter."

  
He reverently flipped the gemstone over - garnet, May's favourite - so that he could open the little locket case. It was fiddly, difficult with his bitten-short fingernails, but the latch clicked eventually and he felt a bittersweet smile creep onto his face.

  
"It's okay, FRI. Thank you." He whispered.

  
It'd taken him ages to find pictures that May didn't have framed somewhere in the apartment. There were two little slots, so he'd settled on one of May and Ben, and one of the three of them together. 

  
The first picture was of their wedding day, Peter's favourite picture of them. It wasn't a professional one, but one his mom had taken on a disposable camera. 

  
They'd just cut the cake - a small, thickly frosted pink affair - and May was shoving cake in Ben's mouth, a joyous laugh on her lips. Ben had a hand on her face, making it clear that they were about to share a kiss before May had gotten in there first. She looked beautiful. 

  
The photograph on the right was taken on an impromptu vacation they'd taken in the dead heat of summer.

  
It had been _so_ hot that year, when Peter was maybe 10 or 11. He and Ned were getting super restless having to stay inside, close to the air-con of the apartment.

  
One afternoon, after they'd finished _Spyro: Enter the Dragonfly_ for the third time to 100%, May threw her hands in the air and announced that Ben was going to call in sick for a couple days and they were going on a roadtrip, if it only meant they could be outside, for god's sake, with the windows down for cool air.

  
It had been the best holiday Peter had ever been on. He can't even remember where they went, but the picture was taken at some seaside pier on Ned's crappy brick-phone. They were standing looking out to sea, May's hands on Peter's shoulders, Ben's arm hooked round her waist. 

  
He could practically taste the salt in the air and hear May's yelp when Ben dragged her into the waves fully clothed.

  
Once the picture had been shrunk to locket-size, it was a good quality. 

  
This year was meant to be May and Ben's 20th wedding anniversary, so Peter had wanted to do something extra special. He'd been saving for ages, and whilst on a Decathlon trip in Minnesota, he'd seen the necklace in a boutique window. It was perfect. 

  
It would've looked so nice on her. Rubbing his thumb over the photos, he pressed it to his forehead, as if it'd quell his building headache. 

  
"Peter?" FRIDAY said suddenly.

  
It made him jump and his head spiked painfully. "Yeah?"

  
"Take a look at your TV."

  
Brow creasing in confusion, he folded the necklace back into its box and snapped it shut, then headed back into his room.

  
On his TV screen was a security feed of the hallway outside his room. He sat back on his bed. "What am I looking at here, FRIDAY?"

  
"This is the Hallway 4 Camera 2 security tape footage from Wednesday April 7th, 1:57 AM." FRIDAY stated matter-of-factly.

  
"O-…kay…?"

  
Peter watched diligently, waiting for whatever it was FRIDAY was so intent on showing him. Tony shuffled into frame about 30 seconds later. He hesitated outside Peter's door, then went in. 

  
Peter cocked his head to the side. What? He didn't remember this. 

  
The feed changed to be in Peter's room, the far corner overlooking his bed. It was definitely recently, since the clothes he'd worn last week were lying on the floor and the book he was reading for English stood on his nightstand. 

  
Frowning, he jerked his head up to where he assumed it must be, and sure enough, there was a tiny camera in the corner. Oh. Tony was watching him?

  
"Camera footage is surveyed by myself only." FRIDAY supplied helpfully.

  
"Oh, okay."

  
Peter was sprawled out in bed as Tony approached him. He was definitely asleep, dreaming maybe. As he got closer, Tony paused again, clearly second-guessing himself. He looked awkward, like he had been ever since Peter had started shutting him out.

  
What was he going to do? 

  
Whatever it was, he must have lost his bottle, since Peter doesn't remember a thing. He sighed, waiting for Tony to leave the room, wondering why FRIDAY was showing him this and massaging his temples. A flashing had appeared in the corner of his right eye.

  
Tony didn't leave. He sat down on the edge of the bed, by Peter's head. He reached a hand out and gently began running a hand down the side of Peter's face. He was saying something. 

  
"Does this feed have sound?"

  
FRIDAY unmuted the footage to reveal Tony murmuring to him, whilst he… whimpered? 

  
Oh, _please_ say he wasn't having a nightmare. Now that he looked at himself more closely, he could see he was twisting in the sheets agitatedly. 

  
"Oh my _god_." He dropped his face into his hands. 

  
_"Hey buddy, it's alright. It's okay, you're safe, you're alright. Settle down for me, okay?"_ Tony sounded upset. _"I hate seeing you like this, kiddo."_

  
Peter looked up. Nightmare-Peter was still now, Tony's palm flat on his cheek. 

  
_"You good?"_ Tony asked him. He puffed out his cheeks in an exhale. Nightmare-Peter rolled over, curling onto his side by Tony and nosing the pillow. _"Cool. Nightmare over."_

  
He stood, but not before staring down at him in silence. "I wish you wouldn't do this alone. You've got me all kindsa worried. And you _know_ that's not a good look on me." 

  
Peter smiled a small smile despite himself. The screen went black as FRIDAY shut off the footage. "I've got 4 more video examples of situations like this, if you'd like."

  
Peter started. Really? 

  
"Uh… no. It's okay, FRI. Thank you, though. That… that helped."

  
"I hope I've made it clear that Boss has never been mad at you; he cares about you more than you realise. That's why I showed you that."

  
"Yeah. Yeah, I kinda get that now, I guess." 

  
He grabbed his water bottle off the nightstand and took a swig. Ow. He was starting to feel foggy with this headache. It was really beginning to spread behind his eyes, his vision blurring, and send shooting pains down his neck. 

  
He supposed lying awake bawling like a baby for nights on end coupled with having nightmares when he actually _did_ manage sleep wasn't exactly a dynamic duo. 

  
Unless their mission was to give him the raging migraine he could feel looming on the horizon. 

  
He'd only ever had one, back before the bite, and it had been awful. May stayed off work for him that day.

  
Having one with his super duper sharp hearing and vision sounded ten times worse. 

  
He settled down and lay down back under the soft sheets, trying to focus his thoughts on happy memories he had of May.

  
May dancing round the kitchen to _Meat Loaf_.

  
May throwing Scrabble tiles at him when he'd inevitably beat her.

  
May surprising him by picking up from school and taking him for ice cream.

  
May, tucking him in despite him being 15, and a superhero…

* * *

  
Ouch.

  
Ugh.

  
Ow. 

  
Oooooooow.

  
Migraine. Yep.

  
He felt disconnected from everything, like he was lying on pins. 

  
Biting back a groan - he was pretty sure he'd throw up if things got any louder than they were.

  
Hot, he was so hot. 

  
He kicked the sheets off and flung his hand over his sweaty eyes. _God,_ it hurt.

  
He just needed to sleep. Hopefully, it was still early and he had enough time to recover enough that he could go and find Tony and apologise. Explain everything.

  
Was he delirious? Probably. 

  
Either way, coming clean to Tony right now seemed like the best thing ever.

  
Tony. He wanted Tony, he realised. If only he could stand sound and touch right now.

  
He pushed back that wistful thought. 

  
Tony was probably still a little miffed at him. 

  
Jesus Christ, ouch. Migraines were incessant little bitches, weren't they? The pounding was getting worse now he was awake.

  
He missed May. His chest tightened. She wasn't here. She never would be again. 

  
Crying wasn't a good idea right now.

  
Sleep. Sleep was good.

* * *

  
When he woke, he felt a cool hand on his forehead, which was snatched away when he moaned softly. He was grateful for the thoughtfulness to his touch-sensitivity right now. 

  
Everything was dialled to 100. He felt _awful_.

  
"Tony?" 

  
"In the flesh." Peter didn't know Tony could whisper that softly, but he still couldn't help but recoil at the sound of it.

  
His stomach was churning dangerously whilst his joints hurt, the shooting pains at the base of his neck seemingly splicing him in half.

  
Tony was pushing 4 tablets into his hand and Peter took them gratefully. He opened his eyes a tiny bit but the room was in near-pitch blackness - he could just about see Tony crouching by him, helping him by tipping a glass of cold water back for him. 

  
When the pills had been safely swallowed and Peter had sent his prayer to the Vomit Gods to _keep them down_ , he realised Tony was leaving when his knees cracked in standing. 

  
"Stay, please." He mumbled helplessly.

  
"Okay." Tony replied simply. He sat on the floor next to the bed and allowed Peter to reach out and curl his hand into the fabric of his jacket. He didn't try to touch him.

* * *

  
It took 6 hours for the pain to die off. Tony stayed with him the entire time, his phone switched off, unspeaking. It was probably torture for him, boring as hell, Peter thought.

  
"That really did a number on you, didn't it?" Tony asked from where he was now sitting next to him on the bed. He'd opened the blinds a slit so that some daylight came through.

  
Peter had thrown up on the floor beside the bed, narrowly missing Tony - who actually took it like a champ, shushing Peter's apologies and cleaning it up quietly.

  
"Yeah, not so fun." He agreed.

  
Tony looked him in the eyes. "How d'you feel?"

  
"Better. Those were _some_ painkillers." He croaked. His mouth and throat tasted like sick, so he took a couple sips of the water Tony was holding.

  
Tony chuckled. "Yeah. Strong shit."

  
Neither said anything for awhile, Tony's attention on the hand he was running up and down the quilt over Peter's knee, Peter's attention on the jewellery box that'd been set aside on the nightstand by Tony.

  
So. Tony had seen it.

  
"I know what day it is," Tony voiced, having obviously read Peter's mind like he always does, "and… I know this isn't the same thing, that this is completely different, but… in some ways, it's the same. I know how you feel, and I understand why you've been acting the way you have, Peter. And I am definitely not mad. I really don't know how to stress that enough."

  
Peter bristled, swallowing and looking up at Tony. Tony had been through this with his parents. Tony knew it was May's birthday. "Okay." He whispered. "Still really sorry. _Really_ sorry, Tony."

  
"I accept your unnecessary apology, kiddo." Tony smiled sadly. 

  
He brought his hand to Peter's face and placed him palm on his cheek, like he had done in the video. Peter turned into it automatically. 

  
"But you need to talk to me. You're scaring me here, Peter. You're coiled up so tight you gave yourself a migraine, and nearly threw up on me at that." He added, his eye glinting a little, trying to soften his words. "I hate seeing you in pain. And not just physical, okay? I can see this tearing you apart inside, but I can't do anything unless you _speak_ to me."

  
Peter could feel his bottom lip trembling and he could do nothing to stop it. 

  
Tony's face was a picture of care, of sympathy and love. 

  
And it so easily broke him.

  
"I miss her," he whispered brokenly, "so much."

  
Tony slid down the bed so that they were both lying, facing each other. "I know you do. She was an amazing woman, and _nothing_ could even come close to replacing her, right?"

  
Peter nodded fervently. He ignored the way his headache shot him a couple pounds in warning.

  
"She made you the amazing kid you are, and you two were everything to each other." 

  
Peter was crying now. She really was his everything.

  
Tears ran down his cheeks and wet the pillow next to him, and he was shuddering whenever he tried to inhale. But it didn't hurt like before. 

  
"And it's okay to feel like this. Nobody's taking this away from you. You're allowed to miss her, you're allowed to be upset, and cry, and scream and shout at me, if you want - that's an open invitation - but you have to try and step back into the light, Peter. You have to start seeing the good things again, and make a _promise_ to her that you're going to live your life to the fullest for _her_. That's always what she wanted, whether she's here or gone. And I know you know that."

  
Everything Tony was saying made perfect sense, and he felt like he'd been waiting to hear it all his life. He felt like he'd lived an entire life since May had died.

  
"C'mere now." They caught each other in a fierce embrace. Peter kept crying, but it wasn't like before. These tears had a purpose.

  
"I'm so sorry I didn't say this sooner, Peter. I really am. This is partly my fault. But… I sure love you, kid. And whatever it takes, therapy, a holiday, even just _telling me_ when you need me, we'll figure it out. I want you to be happy again." Peter nodded into his chest. "Yeah?"

  
"I accept your unnecessary apology." Peter mumbled, full of snot and a thick throat.

  
Tony laughed. Peter found himself laughing too. It felt so nice.

  
"This locket is beautiful, by the way. Don't show Pepper, or she'll have you appointed as my official gift-getter for her birthday. According to some, I've got awful tastes. Like, what? I don't know what that's about."

  
Peter snorted. "Yep. I heard about the huge bear you got her."

  
Tony dropped his jaw, raising his eyebrows and squeezing Peter in fake annoyance. "You shut your mouth. You didn't see it, you can't comment on its true brilliance."

  
"Right. Uh-huh."

  
"You feeling well enough to get up? Or d'you wanna stay?"

  
And, for the first time in months, Peter actually wanted to get out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am sorry
> 
> love u all


	3. Blank Lockscreen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!!
> 
> as per, this is hardly proof-read so please forgive me!  
> Im not sure about this one, for some reason im just not feeling confident about it so please lmk what you think!!
> 
> PS. right now is kind of a shitty time for me for quite a few reasons but honestly, your comments have been sooo wonderful for me so ILY

  
"Peter, I swear, if you check your phone one more time it's gonna _kill itself_." 

  
Peter chuckled and slid his phone back into his jeans pocket. "Sorry."

  
He, Ned and MJ were sitting shoulder to shoulder with their legs hanging off the edge of the jungle gym bridge like little kids.

  
Ned dug his hand into the bottom of the Doritos bag and pulled four chips out with one hand, scrunching the now-empty bag with the other. 

  
MJ held out her arm across Peter's chest without looking up from her book. Ned put one of the chips in the outstretched hand, then placed 2 on Peter's knee. 

  
"Nah, it's okay dude. You have two." Peter smiled and tried to offer one back, but Ned shook his head. 

  
"Nuh-uh. I saw that gun-point robbery you stopped last night on Twitter. Spider-Man needs his fuel." 

  
Peter's face scrunched up in bemused affection for his friend. "What? One chip isn't gonna tip the scale, Ned. C'mon, have it. I've had way more than you guys anyway."

  
"Yeah, because you've got spider DNA. You have to have, like, fifteen meals a day or you'll dry up like a tarantula."

  
"Doritos don't count as a mea-- well, that's solved that." The pair laughed as MJ crunched, having sat forward and snatched the chip out of Peter's hands with her mouth. "Hey, that is _so_ weird, I used to feed the monkeys like that at the zoo."

  
"Watch your step, Parker." MJ flipped down a page corner of Requiem for a Dream and set it aside. She leant back, her hands behind her, tipping her head to the sky. "You guys are lucky I'm here to resolve your marriage disputes."

  
Thankfully, since she had her eyes shut against the sun, she didn't notice the way Peter blushed at the comment. Ned shot him an encouraging smile.

  
"Wanna start studying then?"

  
Peter smiled back gratefully. "Let's do it. I'm so behind, I literally didn't study at all this weekend."

  
"Me neither, it's okay."

  
"Oh, yeah, same."

  
They were lying, Peter knew - the way they said it didn't even sound convincing, but it made him feel better to know that they'd jump to reassure him so readily.

  
They fell into an easy lull of casual reading-aloud and note taking, shooting one another questions every so often. It was nice.

  
Well, mostly - he could feel his phone digging into his thigh uncomfortably in his pocket. A wave of churning nervousness washed over him.

  
He refrained from pulling it back out so soon, if only to avoid more comments (and the ensuing questions) from MJ - and stave off the disappointment of a notificationless lock screen.

  
Had he put it on full volume?

  
Yes. He'd checked at least 100 times.

  
It was a beautiful day. A welcome breeze pushed through the playground, twinkling some balcony wind chimes of the apartment block behind them.

  
Breathing in, he flipped to some practice questions and let his legs swing back and forth. The wind chilled his ankles where his jeans were hitched up, and he let the sensation ground him.

  
It'd been something he'd been taught by his therapist, and he'd actually found really useful recently.

  
_"What can you feel? How does your sweater fabric feel, or the air con blowing on your head? What can you hear? Your mind's going a mile a minute, Peter, so you need to choose something constant to focus on."_

  
At first it'd been kind of difficult to get the hang of, especially when he could feel himself getting worked up or panicked - his brain was too busy to just be put _on hold_ like that, but Tony had experience with the technique. 

  
They'd sort of developed an unspoken method in which Tony would grab his hand and squeeze, hard, till Peter was focusing on the sensation, on the callouses of his palms and the cologne smell on his wrist rather than whatever it was that was upsetting him.

  
Which was mostly May.

  
But it was getting a little better. 

  
A little, not a lot, but still a little. _Progress is progress no matter how big or small, kiddo._

  
Times like now were good, just chilling with his friends. Safe. 

  
Nonetheless, he let his hand slide down and absently played with the corner of his phone case.

  
"So in the subjunctive, the phrase has… a subjunctive verb, right?

  
"Yup. Two verbs. Subjunctive verb's usually signified by the verb in the independent clause and they're linked by the relative pronoun."

  
"…come again?"

  
"So, there's two clauses, right? The first one is a regular verb. The second one's a subjunctive. You know it's subjunctive because there's a pronoun in between."

  
"Oh god, I don't get it! I am failing this test. I am. It's fine, don't get upset, 'cause I accept it. So please, just kill me now so I don't suffer anymore. MJ, _what?_ So there's _two?_ But if the subjunctive's the _second_ one, what the hell's the first one?"

  
"Stop panicking, you're psyching yourself out. It's fine, I have a method to remember it. You'll be able to remember this, it's got you written all over it. It's called a WEIRDO verb."

  
"I deeply resent that." Ned's monotone response made Peter snort, earning him a poke in the ribs.

  
"The first verb has a sentiment, and WEIRDO's an acronym for the kinds of feelings it can be. Wishes, Emotions, Impersonal expressions, Recommendations, Doubt-slash-Denial, and Ojalá."

  
"And that's supposed to make this easier, because…?"

  
MJ groaned and lay back. Peter shook his head, laughing sympathetically, and patted Ned's leg.

  
"You'll get it eventually, bud. You're smart."

  
"I wish I shared your optimism." Ned moaned as MJ wavered her hand mid-air with an elongated _meh_ sound.

  
Soaking in the sunny warmth, she flung her arm over her eyes. 

  
Taking advantage of her distraction, Peter checked his phone. He suppressed his disappointment to a nasal sigh as he turned flight mode on and off, refreshing his Facebook feed.

  
Ned nudged him with his elbow and he looked up at him. He flashed him a searching look, then dropped his gaze to the phone. "Anything?" He mouthed.

  
Peter shook his head and pocketed it again, turning back to his work with more fierce interest than was probably necessary. 

  
He was just getting into a good question when a notebook was thrusted sideways, obstructing the page.

  
 _are you going to tell her??_ scrawled in pencil.

  
Peter swallowed the nostalgic lump in his throat for the same question, but from a different time - a time when _'her'_ meant May. 

  
_do you think I should?_

  
_yes!! she'll be cool trust me_

  
_:) ok_

  
Deep breath.

  
"Hey, MJ-" _That_ was when his phone decided to ping. 

  
It was out of his pocket before he could even register that he was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating and he was legally dead.

  
Wait. 

  
Scratch that. Nevermind.

  
His heart actually stopped beating when he saw the text wasn't from Tony. 

  
His hopefulness disintegrated faster than wax in a flame. Woohoo.

  
"Oh. Uh… Happy's here."

* * *

  
The pair didn't take him up on his offer for a ride home - instead deciding to walk back in the dwindling daylight and make the most of the pleasant weather.

  
Peter couldn't see what they meant. It was _way_ too hot - his back was sweating and his collar was certainly too tight.

  
Tony almost always replied immediately to his texts. What was the deal?

  
The niggling voice that had been lurking at the back of his mind spoke up: _He's mad._

  
Happy started the engine just as his phone pinged with another message. It was from Ned, assuring him there was definitely a perfectly good reason for this. Peter shot back a heart emoji and threw it across the seat. 

  
"Geez, I'd have thought someone with supersonic hearing wouldn't need his phone on volume 100." Happy commented as Ned replied the spider and man emojis.

  
Peter forced a laugh and flipped it onto vibrate. "We were just listening to music."

  
"Fair enough."

  
Peter rubbed his knuckles together, watching the orange sunset through the tinted windows. 

  
He and May used to watch the sunset from the roof sometimes if it was particularly colourful. Or cloud gaze. 

  
_Don't hate the happy memories! You have to cherish them, not push them away - look at it like you're a caretaker to her memory. Let the moments cheer you up like they did at the time._

  
Taking a deep breath, he smiled.

  
"You okay, kid?"

  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He paused. "Is, uh, is Tony around?"

  
"He's at a conference all day. Should be back late. He not text you to tell you?"

  
"No."

  
_Great._

* * *

  
The entire evening was spent alternating between studying for the Spanish test, checking his phone. Making some dinner, refrigerating some for Tony, checking his phone. Propping his phone up so it was visible from the shower, showering, checking his phone.

  
… getting shampoo in his eye, cursing, still checking his phone (but with stupid stinging, bleary eyes). 

  
By the time he was in bed, he'd already stayed up an hour later than he would normally after patrolling on a school night, and _that_ was mostly spent deliberating whether he should stay up and wait for Tony, or if it would be better for his spiralling anxiety to just sleep on it.

  
Patrolling had helped - the fine weather had obviously acted as a good motivation for the common criminals to hit the streets, and he'd been kept super busy the entire time. 

  
Swinging about and taking a few height-related risks (that Tony would _never_ need to know about) gave him a different kind of swooping pit in his stomach that had always proved to be a great distraction.

  
Spider-Man was a different life where he could get away from Peter Parker's troubles a little bit. 

  
It probably wasn't the type of productive coping mechanism that adults always prescribed, but it held the same qualities: copious amounts of fresh air, good exercise, and being helpful in the community. 

  
The second he got back, though, the nervousness hit him full force. 

  
He felt so embarrassed and stupid… he didn't think that this was how Tony was gonna react - but then again, he'd gotten a couple bad reactions before that he hadn't expected.

  
_Maybe he's just waiting to speak to me when he gets back. This isn't, like, exactly an over-text kinda conversation._

  
No. Nah, Tony didn't do that. 

  
He knew how Peter was - needy - and he always, _always_ replied, even if it was just to reassure him they'd talk later.

  
So, what?

  
He was angry. Or uncomfortable, at the very least. Or both.

  
And annoyed, the rolling-his-eyes kind of annoyed.

  
Oh, yeah, bingo, _that'll_ be it. 

  
The ultimate, dynamite combination; the one that makes him squeeze his eyes shut with his earphones in and play his _May_ playlist back on volume 100.

  
It was a weird place to be in: wanting nothing more than for Tony to be there, grounding him, but at the same time wanting nothing less than to see him. His mind was a rinse-repeat cycle of everything that would be going through his mind right now, of how mad he was, and how it was _him_ that'd caused it. When he really thought about it, Tony hadn't been _mad_ since he'd taken his suit off him at the ferry.

  
_Wow, Peter, great job! Bring that horrible memory into the mix, why don't you?_

  
May's reaction had been perfect. He wished he could just be plucked out of the here and now, and just redo the experience again. It was safe. It was warm, and had the comforting aura of being whatever the _opposite_ of embarrassment was. 

  
May would know exactly what to say right now. She'd give him a battle plan on how to face Tony at breakfast. 

  
If he even showed his face. 

  
He wished he hadn't text Tony, and he wished May was here.

  
He fell asleep to the lulling safety of Tom Petty's _Learning to Fly_ \- May's favourite song - and wished and wished and wished.

* * *

  
The absence of any music was what woke him later on. He rolled over and untangled himself from his earphones. The playlist was finished; it was about 3 hours long, a carefully chosen selection of the songs that May really loved, and made Peter feel like home.

  
He was lucky enough to remember straight away why something didn't feel quite right, and he checked the time on his phone. 4:22 - Tony would have been long home by now, he guessed. 

  
His mouth was really dry, so after a few seconds perched on the edge of his bed just listening for any movement, he slipped out to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

  
He only got as far as the kitchen island when he jumped - across the room, Tony was sat on the couch, leaning forward.

  
Staring at his phone. 

  
The room span. He felt faint. 

  
_Not now. Get out of there! You can just drink from your faucet._

  
He took a silent step backwards, wondering if he should duck down to avoid being detected, but the black spots in his peripheries returned a resounding _no_.

  
However, the cruel mistress that was fate had other plans, and his stupid blundering foot caught one of the stools, making an awful scraping sound against the floor.

  
Tony startled, head snapping up and poising to stand.

  
He squinted in the darkness. "Peter?" Peter gulped, a hand now reaching out to steady his dizziness on the counter. "FRIDAY, lights."

  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa - shut them off, FRI - don't nosedive on me, kiddo." Peter's vision had swum when the room was suddenly doused in bright light, and the next thing he knew, Tony was grasping his forearms firmly. "Sorry. The brightness - I didn't think. You alright? You look pale. Let's get you sitting."

  
Tony guided him to the couch. "Alright, quick change in altitude." He said as he sat him down, crouching in front of him, hand squeezing his tightly. Peter stared at him, confused as all hell.

  
But Tony was mad at him. Wasn't he?

  
"Peter? You hearing me?"

  
"Huh? Sorry."

  
"I asked what was wrong."

  
"I'm fine."

  
Tony narrowed his eyes. "Uh-huh…"

  
His vision followed Peter's as it travelled to his Starkphone on the coffee table. It was plugged into a charger, only on 4%.

  
_Oh._

  
_…oh, shhhhhhhhhit._

  
"I'm… gonna go out on a limb here, and guess… you got my text?"

  
Tony's expression shifted from concern to a quiet smile, and he gave Peter's knee two quick squeezes. "I did, kiddo."

  
Peter immediately felt the validation from the small gesture wash over him, simultaneously washing _away_ the frantic conclusions he'd jumped to earlier.

  
"Really sorry I didn't get back to you, I only just saw it. I forgot my charger and can you believe not one other person had a Starkphone? What a load of crap. 250 people there to personally kiss my ass and not a single asshole was legit." Peter huffed a genuine laugh. "Anyway. Yes, I got your text." 

  
"And…" Peter didn't know what to say. "You're okay?"

  
Tony stared at him like he was stupid. "I'm okay? Peter, why would I not be okay? Of course I'm okay."

  
"N-no, I mean, like, are you okay with it? Like, are you okay with… me being gay?"

  
Tony didn't reply. His pupils were shifting between Peter's right eye and left, as if he was trying to divine something. 

  
"Peter." Peter stiffened at his serious tone. "I love you. I love _you_ , for who _you_ are. I always have, and nothing's changed. Now, you're just… even _more_ you."

  
Wow, okay - Peter could feel his eyes welling with tears. Tony's words echoed meaningfully in the expanse of the big, empty room. It gave them even more impact.

  
"And that's whatever… sexuality, gender, partner or no partner, _freaky Spider-Man powers_ or not, okay?"

  
"Yeah." He gave him an embarrassed, watery smile. "Yeah."

  
"Geez, kiddo, I didn't realise… I'm so sorry, I wish I'd had my charger."

  
"It's okay."

  
"No, Peter, it's not. I wasn't there for you when you told me this, this really brave thing, and I'm sorry."

  
"Tony, it's _okay _."__

  
"Should I shut the hell up now?" 

  
"Yeah." 

  
"Yeah." Tony laughed. "Okay." He came to sit next to Peter and put an arm around his shoulders. 

  
Sitting beside him, now himself, his full self, Peter felt a little more better. _Progress_.

  
He let his head slip onto Tony's shoulder, who pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

  
"Proud of you." Tony said into the darkness. "As always." 


	4. Finals Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ........................ Infinity War really was that bitch, huh......................

  
Finals week was right around the corner.

  
They should be a piece of cake for the kid. A walk in the palk. A stroll down Easy Street.

  
And here Peter was, about 5 minutes from burning out. 

  
He was the goddamn physical embodiment of a candle that'd been out of wax hours ago, somehow dwindling, pale and dim, off a wick and nothing else.

  
He was barely eating, _definitely_ wasn't sleeping, hardly going out as Underoos at all, and his smile was tired and thin - like he couldn't spare the energy it took to laugh when it could be used for studying.

  
It certainly didn't reach his eyes, and that worried him more than he cared to admit. 

  
Well…

  
At least he was still showering. 

  
Small mercies.

  
Tony rolled his eyes at his own joke, berating himself for making light of something that in reality was scaring the shit out of him.

  
Finals were important, obviously, but Peter had aced the rest of the year. Were they _that_ big of a deal? 

  
Tony had to hold his tongue to tell him to _take it easy,_ because he was scoping the situation out - he couldn't tell if something else was going on with the kid, or what. 

  
Ned sure as hell wasn't studying half as hard as Peter, he'd checked - nobody was. 

  
He sighed. He wanted to help, but Peter was making it very hard.

  
The kid in question was sat across from him at the table, twirling spaghetti round his fork.

  
Tony had noticed the transition - from him shovelling the food down as fast as he could in order to get straight back to studying, to now him playing with it, dressing it up, trying to trick his non-existent appetite into wanting it.

  
In other words, it was Peter's ingrained politeness to finish what was set in front of him, and his politeness only, that was keeping his ass on that chair right now. 

  
FRIDAY was playing the radio quietly, as instructed before Peter had come in. 

  
It was to make the room seem less empty and more inviting, in the hopes that the kid might stick around for a minute or two after eating instead of racing back off to his books. 

  
It felt like he hadn't seen him in forever.

  
Which was kinda true, because in a way, he hadn't - the real Peter didn't usually have purple circles under his eyes and a waxy complexion. He _also_ didn't look like he was about to throw up. 

  
"You feelin' okay?" He tried, putting his own fork down and resting his cheek in his hand.

  
Peter looked up, shooting him a soft smile. "I'm good, yeah." _Filthy liar,_ Tony's head supplied. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself even more than Tony, but whatever. "Only a couple days before my first one."

  
Tony nodded like he definitely didn't know that already, like he didn't have 5:30am alarms set so he could be up and making a proper breakfast for the kid. "I see."

  
"And how are you?" _Well-executed diversion tactic. God, I hate it when I rub off on him._

  
"Me? Oh, I'm peachy." He took a gulp of his wine. _Counter-deflection in 3, 2…_ "Just a little worried about _you,_ if I'm honest, buddy."

  
Peter's forehead creased. Then, a moment later, it straightened out. So did his back against the chair. "Oh, I-don't worry about me, I'm studying, I swear, I am! I just had Decathlon today and, yeah, I know I went out patrolling for a couple hours last night but I'm gonna stop now till after finals, I promise, and I'm gonna cancel on Ned for the movie on Tuesday because I still need to go over Mesoamerica and the Andes and Mesopotamia and I haven't even _started_ on-"

  
"Whoa, whoa, hold up a second there, Indy Jones." 

  
Peter immediately stopped scrambling for excuses. Tony stared at him, concerned. 

  
"Honestly, Peter, chill out. I know you're trying your best, but I don't want you to do it like that. Don't stand up Ned, please. That's not cool. I want you to study, of course I do, because I want you to do the best you can. But I _meant_ I'm worried about you because you look like you haven't slept in days. You look beat to hell."

  
"M'alright."

  
"I'm sure you think you are. But, and trust me on this, you're not. Look at me?" Peter obliged and he slowly took in his entire, exhausted form. "You're really not. Peter, I want you to get the grades you deserve. You deserve 110 percent, okay? Sure. But I don't want you to achieve that at the expense of your health. Your enhanced state can only help you out for so long, especially if you can't even stomach a single square meal. _Especially_ if you're not catching any Zs. Are you drinking enough water?"

  
Peter shoved a forkful in his mouth. "M'eating! See?"

  
"Uh-huh. Finish it."

  
Peter hunkered down over his plate. Tony went back to his. 

  
It could've only been 2 minutes before Peter stood, taking the plate to rinse it off.

  
"Done. That was really good. Thanks, Tony!"

  
"You don't want dessert?"

  
"Nah, I'm-full. You have it. Seriously, don't worry, I'm good! Seeya later!" 

  
"'Full' my ass." He grumbled into his wine glass.

  
Peter was going to be the death of him.

  
… _if_ the kid wasn't the death of himself first.

  
"FRIDAY, let me know when he's asleep."

* * *

  
"From what I can tell, he was asleep for 2 hours and 3 minutes, and was in REM sleep for about 21 minutes."

  
"How much REM should he be getting?"

  
"70 to 100 minutes, Boss."

  
"Wow." Tony missed the days when Peter Parker would skip school to stop bad guys on the Staten Island Ferry. "That is. Amazing."

  
"Shall I let him know you're awake?"

  
"Sure."

  
He flipped the final pancake down on top of the rest.

  
"He's on his way down."

  
"Thanks, FRI."

  
"Mornin'," Peter's tone sounded like more of a confused question than a greeting which made Tony smile down at the bacon.

  
"Morning, kiddo. Grab those." He gestured to the pancakes beside him.

  
He heard Peter come closer when he paused, side brushing against Tony's, looking over the bacon and eggs on the stove. "Are you… fattening me up to eat me or something?"

  
Tony sputtered a laugh. "Brain food, Hansel. Brain food."

  
"You calling me 'Hansel' doesn't exactly reassure me." Peter groused quietly, amused.

  
"Would you prefer Gretel? Just sit down, shut up and _eat_ it, smartass. Tell me, did you get those 8 hours I told you to?" He hopped across the kitchen to grab a spatula, pointing it at him over his shoulder without looking and holding it in place in anticipation of a reply. 

  
"Uh, yeah, I think so."

  
 _This kid._

  
"That's interesting."

  
He retracted the spatula and shut off the heat.

  
"…huh?"

  
"Because a little AI birdie happened to tell me that you didn't hit the hay till 4am. Whoa!" He finally caught sight of Peter's face as he turned. He looked like utter shit. "Nobody told me I had a zombie for a kid!"

  
"Shuddup." Peter flushed - at least it brought a little colour to his cheeks - and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I couldn't sleep. Thought I may as well study."

  
"And that, my friend, is what we call a 'likely story'." He slipped a couple eggs and several rashers of bacon beside Peter's pancakes before sitting down in his usual spot and nursing his coffee. "Eat, please. For me? I can't in good faith send you out there running on empty."

  
"Not _empty!_ I still slept!" Peter insisted round a hesitant mouthful of food, "Just not as much as you said."

  
"It's not enough, Pete." He said softly. There was no point chewing him out; it'd just work him up right before the test. Peter couldn't _stand_ thinking he'd upset people.

  
Peter sighed. "Sorry. I know you're worried - I'm okay, honestly. I just wanna do you… and May… proud. And anyway, this isn't forever, just for this week." Tony went to reply, but was cut off, "I don't have time to waste. I just… I can't sleep when I could be studying."

  
Tony put his mug down and swiped his hands down his face in quiet exasperation. "I'd be proud of you if you got a 0, Peter. What I really want is for you to look after yourself."

  
"You're just saying that because that's what you have to say because you're an adult."

  
"Hey! Am not!"

  
"You've done things _way_ harder than finals on way less sleep-"

  
"Uhhh- I think I remember very clearly instructing you to not do anything I would do. Listen to me, Peter, if this is the only thing you ever listen to. The only good example I am is an example of what you should absolutely _not_ do."

  
Peter didn't reply. Tony deflated. 

  
He slid his mug across the table and clinked it against his plate to make him look up at him. "Hey. You alright? How you feeling?" he asked, his voice gentle.

  
Peter swallowed his eggs convulsively. "Not sure. Can't wait to just get it outta the way. I think getting the first one done'll help?"

  
"Sure, that's understandable."

  
Peter finished the rest of his food in return for Tony testing him with flash cards. The kid knew his stuff, but he could see that the stress and lack of sleep was slowing him down a bit.

  
"Killed it. You're all good, kiddo." That made him beam. 

  
He squeezed the back of his neck in encouragement and wished him luck before he left.

  
When the elevator doors slid shut behind him, he wondered whether he should go back to bed.

  
 _Nah,_ he thought, heading back to the coffee maker, _I've done things way harder than finals on way less sleep. May as well hit the lab._

* * *

  
"Boss, Peter's back."

  
"Fine - tell him to come down here."

  
FRIDAY paused and Tony leant back over his work while he waited for her to relay the message. "He says he needs to study and that the test was okay."

  
Tony raised his eyes, frowning, annoyed. "Just 'okay'?" 

  
He dropped onto a roller-chair and picked at a hangnail for a second. He let his hand flop into his lap, puffed his cheeks out and exhaled. He twisted the seat left and right. "FRI?"

  
"He says yeah. Just okay."

  
"I'll go to him then."

  
"His door's locked, Boss."

  
"Jeez, what the hell is up with him? Alright, tell him dinner'll be in a half-hour."

  
He changed to a fresh shirt and was washing his hands in the sink as FRIDAY piped up again, and he nearly did a backflip with concerned frustration. "He says he's not hungry. He _says_ he ate earlier." 

  
"Nice job, kid," he muttered to himself, "You've even got a disembodied voice calling you a liar."

* * *

  
Peter left the next day with a quarter of an hour's less sleep than the night before. Wednesday was about the same.

  
He skipped his therapy appointment, and the movie, saying that _Ned_ had cancelled on him. Tony refrained from asking Ned, even if it was only because he'd called the kid once already this week and didn't want to do it again.

  
Tony ground his teeth watching him force down his breakfast, wanting nothing more than to wrap the kid up in a blanket and send him back to bed. 

  
If he was being honest with himself, he _could_ call the school and sign him off as sick, but the kid would just web his way there and sign himself back in again, knowing him. 

  
And he was definitely not in any fit state to be webbing anywhere right now. 

  
Nuh-uh. No way, no thanks. Over Tony's dead body.

  
"Is there any way to pump his room with sleeping gas?" He voiced aloud after saying goodbye to him.

  
"That'd be a little sadistic, Boss."

  
"Eh. What do _you_ know."

* * *

  
Thursday came, with an afternoon test this time instead of a morning one. 

  
He set his alarm for 9 instead of the unholy 5:30, padding down after a shower just before half past. It was all quiet. Hopefully, Peter had slept in.

  
Ha. Haha. Good one.

  
He was very happy to find Pepper sitting at the kitchen island when he came in, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck as he passed her for the fridge. "Pleasure to see you, Ms. Potts."

  
"I'm sure it is. I'm not staying, just bringing some things for you to sign since you cannot possibly bring your lazy ass down to the office every once in a while." She smirked, hopping down from the stool and looping her arms round his waist. 

  
Tony finished rifling in the fridge, ripping open the blueberries and popping one in her mouth. 

  
"Eurgh. Those are a bit overripe." 

  
"Peter likes 'em like that, for some _unfathomable_ reason."

  
Pepper made a sudden sound as she chewed, as though he'd reminded her of something. "Hey, yeah. Is he _okay_?"

  
Tony frowned. Pepper hadn't seen Peter for at least 2 weeks, before he'd started doing his Casper the Friendly Ghost impression. "Why d'you ask?"

  
"I saw him leave for the school library just a little while ago. He looked really… sick. Awful, actually. Shouldn't you be keeping him off?"

  
He groaned loudly, twisting so they were face to face and dropping his head to her shoulder. "That kid is gonna kill me, I swear to god."

  
"Tony, what's goin' on?"

  
"Finals week. Kid seems to think he can get extra credit for wasting away to nothing, I don't know. I'm worried about him, Pep. I'm starting to think that this is something more than just finals."

  
"Finals? Don't they only count for 15 percent or something?"

  
"10 percent, some of them. He's killin' himself for 10 percent."

  
"He really didn't look great…" 

  
"I _know,_ and he won't listen to me. He isn't sleeping, I have to hold him at gunpoint to eat… I've kinda just resigned myself to the fact that come Friday, I can chloroform the shit out of the kid for a whole weekend."

  
Pepper hummed in response, taking his face in his hands. "You're trying your best," Tony huffed a laugh, muttering 'Am I?', "you _are._ Can't you, I don't know, put a sleeping pill in his drink or something?"

  
"Nah, he'd taste it. And he'd never forgive me for that. You'd find my corpse webbed to a wall somewhere. Kid's got webs, Pepper."

  
She kissed his forehead. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

  
Tony's mind flashed back to an episode of _Seinfeld_ he'd seen. What was it they said in that crappy Cockney accent? _Not bloody likely._

* * *

  
"Peter's back, Boss." 

  
Tony jumped up, carelessly throwing his mask and gloves to the ground as he jogged for the elevator. "Tell him to _wait there_." 

  
He had his plan all ready. He wasn't gonna shout, but he was gonna be stern. 

  
He hated it, but he wasn't risking anything: even if this _was_ just a finals thing, it'd be better to nip it in the bud. Peter deserved to sleep. Peter deserved _better._

  
He couldn't have cause to wear his worry on his sleeve like this forever; he didn't have the matching cufflinks.

  
"I don't think he's going anywhere, Boss."

  
_What?_

  
When the elevator doors opened, he stepped out confused. If he _wasn't going anywhere,_ where the hell was he? Because he sure wasn't in the living area. 

  
"FRI, where-"

  
"Tony." A voice croaked behind him.

  
Heart in his mouth, he span round, and there was Peter: dripping wet, knees to his forehead, slid down against the wall beside the elevator. His soaked coat and backpack lay beside him.

  
All the sternness he'd built up like Tetris blocks melted away immediately. His heart thumped.

  
"Peter?" He sat down on his knees in front of him, reaching up to pull his hands from his head to get a better look from his face. "Talk to me, buddy. What do you need?"

  
It struck him that Peter wasn't crying. He was trembling something awful, though. "A hug, please." He said, his voice desperate.

  
"I can do that." He whispered, accepting without hesitation that his heart was probably permanently broken into a million tiny jagged pieces.

  
He slowly extricated Peter's exhausted, wet body from its balled-up position, and wrapped his arms around him tight. 

  
Peter's face immediately went for the crook of his neck, hugging back harder than he thought was possible for someone living off what was practically a negative number's worth of hours' rest.

  
Tony pushed his nose into Peter's wet hair, not caring that his clothes were getting damp now too. 

  
They stayed, intertwined, for a good long while whilst the thunderstorm outside raged.

  
Peter said nothing. He gave no explanation. 

  
That was okay, because Tony didn't think he needed one.

  
He maintained his quiet mantra of, "You're okay. You're safe. Everything's fine. Everything's good. You're alright. You're alright. I'm here. You're here. You're safe." the entire time.

  
It was only when he realised Peter was asleep that Tony decided it was time to move.

  
At first he tried to rouse him just enough to get him to his room, but it wasn't working. He was dead to the world. 

  
"Sofa it is." He said to himself, scooping him up (his back could frankly go straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200) and lowering him as gently as possible to the couch. 

  
He then set about pulling off Peter's shoes, setting them by a radiator before grabbing some blankets and tucking them round him.

  
"Lights." 

  
The calming monotony of heavy rainfall and the dulled lights of the city engulfed the room. He settled himself beside Peter, fingers running through his curls to dry them off.

  
Finally feeling at peace, he let himself drift too.

* * *

  
It was dark and the rain had stopped when he woke.

  
Cricking his neck and yawning, he reached his hand down to Peter's hair. 

  
Scratch that.

  
The cushion where Peter's hair _should be_.

  
"Where is he, FRIDAY." He deadpanned.

  
"Studying in his room. Door's locked, boss."

  
"Of course it is. How much sleep?"

  
"3 hours 15 minutes, Boss."

  
He sighed. "Better than nothing, I guess." 

  
He leaned forward and tapped his fingers on either side of his temples. Back to square one.

  
Cool.

  
He heaved himself up and made a start on dinner: Peter's favourite, mac and cheese.

  
"Tell him I'll leave his dinner in the fridge and that I expect it to be gone by tomorrow."

* * *

  
The call came about 25 minutes after Peter's _final_ final should've began.

  
He'd seen the kid that morning for breakfast, which he dutifully ate and allowed Tony to practise flashcards with him. 

  
He was painfully quiet, saying nothing of the day before; simply giving him a small, bone-weary smile and a thank-you as he pulled on his dry shoes and headed out.

  
And so that's how he found himself at the school in what was definitely a time not legal under traffic laws, but sue him. 

  
He had to be with his kid when he'd _passed out cold,_ and _stayed out,_ for 10 minutes due to sleep deprivation. 

  
He was terrified. He wanted to hug the kid and never let go.

  
But could he say he was surprised?

  
Well, actually… yeah, a little. He'd come this far.

  
Then again, it'd be a perfect specimen of Parker Luck to make it through the whole week, only to fall at the final hurdle.

  
The least he could hope for was that Peter would be asleep when he got to the nurse's office, but - forget Parker Luck - Stark Luck dictated that he could never be so fortunate.

  
Peter was sat on a cot against the wall, arms wrapped around his middle and a nurse rubbing his arm, trying to get through to him. 

  
He was replying to her, sure, but only to be polite. 

  
It seemed as though he was reassuring _her_ more than the other way round.

  
The kid looked like Death reincarnated. 

  
Yup - he could see now why the school would've called for an ambulance if Tony hadn't stopped them. 

  
When she saw him, the nurse stood and let him sit where she'd been, passing him a cardboard bowl _just in case._

  
Peter's wide eyes followed him to where he sat, looking like every fibre of his being was focusing on either not crying or not throwing up. Probably both. With his lack of sleep, Tony resigned himself to the fact that one of these were about to win out, and soon.

  
"Hi there."

  
"I'm sorry." His voice was weak and thick.

  
"Usually people say hi back, ya know." Peter just dropped his head down to look at his lap, swallowing, eyes welling with tears. Tony cocked his head to the side and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, turning his pallid face back to him.

  
"Hi."

  
"Hi."

  
"That's better." 

  
Peter acquiesced with an exhausted smile, letting Tony bring his head onto his shoulder and a strong arm round his shoulders. 

  
"You okay?"

  
"I might puke. Sorry."

  
"That's fine. We have this for that." He put the bowl on Peter's lap, who clutched it like a lifeline with lightly shaking hands. "Rough day, huh?"

  
"Rough week." Peter corrected, laughing once, humourlessly.

  
"Yeah, no kidding, kiddo. You had me real scared for a hot minute."

  
"I'm sorry."

  
"As long as you never do it again, I can look into forgiving you." Tony made sure his tone held both the right amount of seriousness _and_ gentleness that he wanted. 

  
"I just… just wanted to-oh God," One of Peter's arms loosened from his stomach and fumbled for the bowl, Tony grabbing it and bringing it to his mouth faster. 

  
He gagged, moaning softly, and brought up mostly stomach acid. 

  
Tony cringed at the sight and grabbed some tissue off the roll by the cot. He stuffed some into the bowl with one hand, handing Peter the rest. The other hand smoothed circles into the kid's back. 

  
"You already threw up that nice breakfast I made you, huh." He mused quietly as he waited for Peter's head to return to his shoulder. 

  
"Sorry."

  
"Yep, I got that one."

  
Peter cleared his throat to force out his thin voice. "I just wanted to prove that I was okay, that I was getting better."

  
Tony quirked up the corner of his mouth, bemused. "I know that already, kiddo."

  
"But… I thought… I thought if I failed my finals I'd show this year didn't, like, I don't know," Tony squeezed his shoulder in encouragement, "…count? that this year had been wasted, that I wasn't what May thought I was, and that… you…"

  
"Go on."

  
"That you'd think I was stupid, or weak or something, and that I wasn't _capable_ because I'd lost May and that I wasn't what you wanted."

  
Tony didn't even know what to say.

  
"Why would you think that at _all,_ Peter?" 

  
"And then I was studying and studying and studying, and I could feel you getting mad, but I couldn't stop, I knew the more I studied, the more mad you got, and I just wanted to make it right by making you proud, so I-" Peter was cut off by throwing up again, this time more aggressively. 

  
Afterwards, he went whiter than a sheet with the exertion and Tony had to lean him forward to stop him from passing out again. He could feel his own stomach twisting in upset, anxiety and sympathy.

  
"Okay, that's enough." He said whilst Peter was still down. "I don't even know how to start explaining to you how wrong you are, Peter. I'm not mad, I'm _never_ mad. I'm a little frustrated, yeah, worried, _definitely_. But… I keep telling you I love you, kid. So much. And I wish you'd come to me with this instead of internalizing it. Because I do love you so much." Peter stirred, mumbling 'love you too' against into his knees, "And you are so smart - _way_ smarter than me, easily. Miles above me. But this is the stupidest thing you've ever said."

  
Peter raised his head, and Tony straight away pulled him into a hug. "I feel like we always come full circle to this, so for the love of god I need you to listen to me. I'm always proud of you. More than you could ever know. And so is May. So please, please, please, _never do this again._ Get that through your thick skull, why don't you?"

  
"Thought you said I was clever." Peter sniffed against his chest.

  
"I did. I take it back. Thin skull. Get that through your incredibly delicate, thin skull. Alright?"

  
"Yeah." He whispered. Then, after a minute, "I'm so, so _tired,_ Tony."

  
"I know you are, bud. I know you are. How 'bout we get you to bed, huh? D'you even remember what a bed is?"

  
"Not really."

  
"Oh, you are gonna love it. Can't recommend this thing called 'sleep' enough. Get excited. Seriously, it's free of charge. You are gonna wanna be sleeping _all weekend_ , Pete."

  
Peter was chuckling like someone dying of thirst laughs when they saw water. "Cool."

  
"Cool."

  
Tossing the bowl, Tony grabbed his jacket and helped him into it. He was tilting slightly at the loss of someone next to him holding him upright. Tony felt a pang of concern for him.

  
Before he moved away to pick up Peter's backpack, he took his face in both hands, tipping his own chin to his chest so he was looking into his eyes. "You okay?"

  
Peter smiled. "I think so. Except…"

  
Tony frowned. "What's wrong? You don't feel good?"

  
"No - well, yeah - but, like, it's just… did everyone see me take a total nosedive in the test?" 

  
Tony exhaled. "I'm guessing there'll be gifs of it on Twitter by the end of the night."

  
_"Oh crap."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (OMG Sorry for the same-old same-old, but a repetitive heart to heart is kinda necessary to the premise of the story)
> 
> WOW so OBVIOUSLY no spoilers for IW but like UHHHHHH are you all okay?! Am I?!  
> My knowledge of finals and however your high school system works is 100% based off of google and what an american family friend had to do in his personal experience so sorry if its WRONG IDEK WHAT IM DOING
> 
> i finished writing this at 3am and now it's not enough hours later & im uploading it with minimal proofreading, so sorry about that BUT I FEEL LIKE WE NEEDED SOMETHING WITH A RESOLUTION 
> 
> LOVE YOU ALL. FFFUCK


	5. Text Messages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's this? 6:26 am? Writing in one sitting? so probably AN ABUNDANCE OF ERRORS OF EVERY KIND? yeah. That.
> 
> I will heavy duty proof read this after some sleep you have my word
> 
> this chapter is partially dedicated to losingmymindtonight, my LOVE and main squeeze on this site, who has put up with me TO NO END and in one instance bounced back and forth fluffy & funny peter-tony text message headcanons with me. LOVE U, but that nice fluffy text message structure? I crucified that. 
> 
> sorry (thats a universal apology to YOU ALL for whatever this chapter is)
> 
> LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH & ESPECIALLY YOU BABES THAT COMMENTED ON LAST CHAPTER 
> 
> also, there's a very subtle kind of allusion to rape in this chapter, after the sentence "Go right at the bank.". Idk if that's how you do trigger warnings, but please be aware and look after yourselves!! <3

  
Peter made sure to keep May's phone charged up.

* * *

  
**Sat 30 Dec,** _17:42_  
hey may where are you?? I bought donuts :) xx

  
how much fabric conditioner do i put in again? xx

  
 _19:20_  
Are you working extra hours tonight? X

  
OMG ARE YOU ON A DATE? IS THAT WHY YOU'RE BEING SO SNEAKY AND QUIET

  
 _21:04_  
may 

  
please reply may im getting worried now

  
please wake me when youre back

  
Your phone isn't dead because it's not going straight to your voicemail so please answer :(

  
 _23:00_  
Don't be mad but im gonna call Mr Stark bc im scared now

* * *

  
**Tue 2 Jan,** _01:01_  
Please please pleaseplease please plsea please pelase may i literlaly cant do this without you please please please please

* * *

  
**Wed 3 Jan,** _04:52_  
Everything feels wrong like it's a dream my head is so blurry icant 

  
I can't wake up from it please just wake me up 

  
I need you

* * *

  
**Sat 6 Jan,** _10:11_  
Plesaecme back may please it hurts so bad

* * *

  
**Mon 8 Jan,** _06:04_  
Ididnt get to say goodbye to you 

  
Eveyrtimei thinkabout it I just cant breathe I cant brethenow I need you may please pleasepleasepelase

* * *

  
**Wed 10 Jan,** _12:36_  
I want to touch you I miss you so much I cant believe youre gone

* * *

  
**Thu 11 Jan,** _23:59_  
I threw up all day my stomach is sosore 

  
I need tony but hes asleep nexct to me 

  
Icant do the funeral I cant do it I cant I catn I want you 

  
Pleasecome back

* * *

  
**Fri 12 Jan,** _22:36_  
My head hurts so bad from crying and I want to just fall asleep and wake up where youre there

  
You would've hated the service because there was all the stuff you really wanted to do before you died from your list but they couldn't talk about them and the hymns were so sad . I couldn't do my speech bc I kept choking up and Mr Stark had to do it for me and I know you don't really like him so I felt like Id betrayed you im so sorry I really wanted to do it I feel like ive wasted my last ever chance to say goodbye to you

  
I'm really sorry May

  
I imagined your spirit and your soul ascending like they said and it hurts so bad because I know youdont want to go

  
I got you cremated like you said you wanted

* * *

  
**Wed 24 Jan,** _20:56_  
We scattered your ashes in the sea today

  
I'm sorry I haven't been texting I'm just really really sad

* * *

  
**Mon 5 Feb,** _13:15_  
I had a dream that you were trying to call me but the line was really bad, was that you? Tony said it could really be you trying to talk to me

  
If it was you then I got your message and I love you too

  
If it wasn't then I love you anyway

* * *

  
**Sun 11 Feb,** _16:22_  
Went to the apartment yesterday and there was a HUGE spider on your nightstand, you would've FREAKED

  
Tony put it outside

  
He's like you, he never kills them don't worry :)

  
 _20:33_  
I miss you so much

* * *

  
**Fri 23 Feb,** _02:30_  
Tonymade me hotmilk to try adn help me sleep and I dropped it adn it went everywhere such a big mess and I cantstpo criygn May :( :( :( 

  
_04:12_  
Feeling better now. Tony really helps

  
I know you don't like him but you just don't know him properly, I wish you could know him like I do

* * *

  
**Sat 10 Mar,** _19:09_  
Today's really hard idk why because im back at Midtown now and we had a Decathlon mock practice and I got the winning answer but I just don't feel good and I cried in the bathroom

  
Tony came and signed me out though and we went for a drive 

  
Im so glad hes here or I don't know what I would've done

  
Hes making mac& cheese for dinner 

  
It's not better than yours with the bacon in but its not bad

* * *

  
**Fri 23 Mar,** _23:50_  
There's a cute boy at school 

  
He has a nice laugh like yours 

  
You know the one that you always say sounds like a machine gun 

  
I told him that and it made him laugh for like 20 minutes

  
I did your trick too where I pretended to drop something so he'd pick it up for me ;)

* * *

  
**Mon 26 Mar,** _12:23_  
NEVerMINd hes got a girlfriend. LOVE SUCKS

  
I think I'll tell Tony soon, things are going great with him

* * *

  
**Tue 3 Apr,** _05:17_  
Ive gone so downhill. My teeth hurt from crying so much I just miss you so much it really hurts and I want tony but hes not here

* * *

  
**Thu 5 Apr,** _03:49_  
tony's not replacing you please don't think that

  
idk I feel guilty that it feels like imreplacign you im not I promise im still yours

  
reallyhurts right now

* * *

  
**Fri 13 Apr,** _21:50_  
Happy birthday Aunt May  <3

  
I can't even put into words how much I miss you. I'm crying as I write this and I feel like I'll be carrying this weight in my chest for the rest of my life. I don't go more than a couple hours without thinking about you. I think I miss your hugs and your lame jokes the most x

  
But since I can't give you your real present, I'm going to try and feel better. Tony made me see that that's what you'd want, and he's getting me a counsellor and I'm going to start talking to him more. He says happy birthday too!!

  
Love you so so so much

* * *

  
**Mon 1 May,** _18:31_  
Happy May ;) x

  
Just watched finding nemo with my therapist and Tony and Rhodey, I told her its our film and now ihave to write something about it I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU'VE GOTTEN ME HOMEOWRK

* * *

  
**Thu 11 May,** _04:06_  
I CAME OUT TO TONY 

  
IM ASJBFASETNAVEGHMSCGJPARG

* * *

  
**Fri 15 June,** _09:31_  
WOW it's been a while!!!! :o :(

  
I'm so sorry for not texting more, I had finals (crushed it!!!) and then we went on vacation and then the phone company shut off your network ( :( ) but tony got it back online for me and I can still listen to your voicemail message

  
I still really miss you. A lot. I still cry about it sometimes and some days are kinda bad. But not ALL of htem and not even the majority of them, and I have tony

  
Which is kinda what I want to text u about .

  
Idk if it's the same thing but you know when youre supposed to ask a girls father for his permission to marry her

  
Its like that

  
Sorta lol

  
Oh man im nervous

  
OK SO basically the other day I nearly called tony dad which was super cringey and UGH but he didn't notice so it's all good it's all fine

  
but

  
hes not said anything about adoption, he just has like guardian custody or something and I feel like he feels like he cant say anything abt it, If u know what I mean??

  
I really honestly think he wants this, he calls me his kid and hes called me his son to a few people like a tthis gala he said I was his son omg I was likeOMG

  
Im still nervous man I hope he takes it well

  
But I just got off the phone w Pepper and shes sorting it rn, Idk properly how it works but im gonna give him the form for fathers day (2 days away agsnjofifjuehgd)

  
I made him a photo album too of pictures off his phone and stuff rhodey and pepper and happy have sent me and pics of us and everything bc I want himt o have something physical idk everything's on friday these days

  
Oh yea friday's his AI

  
AI means artificial intelligence btw

  
It means like shes his personal assistant but shes a computer like the computer in star trek she's super nice

  
Anyway

  
Yeah

  
I just wanna know if that's okay? Im not gonna start calling him dad and im DEFINITELY not replacing you ever. I guess im just letting you knowthat you're still my no. 1 and you always will be. I love you May

  
Okay

  
Yeah

  
<3

* * *

  
**Thu 17 June,** _08:28_  
Oh fuck its gone to shit May helpme help me help mhe

  
I left the form and the photo album in the kitchen and I was watching round the corner and he sawthem and he just totally lost his smile when he opened the envelope

  
He stared at it

  
He's gone into his room he didn't take the stuff with him

  
May im scared I fucked up 

  
_10:13_  
Im just pacing in my room idk what to do!!! omgOGM OMG!!! He hasnt come out!!!! Ive clearly overstepped its so embarrassing and I feel sick hes definitely mad oooooooomgggg idk what to do

  
Im gonna call ned im gonna cry

  
 _10:45_  
Friday (the computer) says he's on the phone to Pepper oh God I hope I didn't get her in trouble

  
I'm playing chess against my laptop trying to stay chill I really hate knowing someone's mad especially when it's Tony :(

  
Oh MY goddddd 

  
ive screwed up haven't I 

  
_11:36_  
:(

* * *

  
Ned had told him to just knock on Tony's door.

  
Not to be mean, but Ned could be an _idiot_ sometimes. 

  
Absolutely the opposite of subtle.

  
Peter scrubbed his face with his hands aggressively. He was sat on the carpet, knees up, back against the side of his bed. 

  
He hated knowing in such excruciating detail what being a ball of nervous energy felt like - but then again, he was sort of used to it by now. 

  
His stomach was tossing and turning and his chest felt that horrible kind of tight that came along with realising that what you've done was heavy and completely irreversible and just _so very definitely_ not the right thing to have done.

  
He took grounding breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth.

  
He rapidly passed the pads of his fingers against his thumbs one at a time again and again and again, till the sensation made his hands feel detached and weird.

  
Breathe in, nose. Breathe out, mouth.

  
Tipping his head back to the mattress, he focused on the ceiling projection from his alarm clock. The little colon flashed the seconds by and he was annoyed to find the even _that_ worked him up.

  
"FRIDAY, what's he doing now?"

  
"Still on call."

  
Breathe in, nose. Breathe out, mouth.

  
"Okay. Thanks." A beat's pause, then, "Can you tell him I'm out patrolling if he asks?"

  
"Sure thing, Peter."

  
"Thanks."

  
Tony had had the suit dry-cleaned, or something: however you had a multi-million dollar suit with a ton of wires and tech in it, he'd done that. It smelt fresh, very much like fancy detergent rather than plain old teenage sweat.

  
"Hey, Karen. Seeya, FRI." 

  
"Hey, Peter."

  
"Bye, Peter."

  
"Hi. Bye."

  
He slipped out the window, hanging onto the ledge as he shot off a long web to the next-door tower, swinging low and deep onto the lower rooves. 

  
"How are you doing today, Peter? Your vitals suggest that you're feeling quite anxious."

  
Breathe in, nose. Breathe out, mouth.

  
_Breathe in the smell of roses, blow out the birthday candles._

  
Breathe, breathe. 

  
_"Hey, Tony! Just completely throwing on you out of the blue that I want you to be my legal father with no prior conversation. I'm just assuming that this huge life decision that requires a lot of talking is what you want, bye!"_

  
"Peter?"

  
He almost slipped, regaining himself at the last second.

  
Nose, mouth.

  
"I'm good, Karen, I'm fine. How are you?"

  
"I'm great if you are."

  
Peter smiled. Karen was sweet as hell. "What've you got for me?"

  
Breathe, breathe.

  
"A pair of paramedics a couple blocks away are trying to get a stretcher down the stairs of an apartment block."

  
"Lower him down out a window like the elevator at the Washington Monument?"

  
"You read my mind."

  
"Show me the way!"

  
He swooped, diving about, making a couple risky jumps, but he was fine. If he scared himself a little, it made him forget about the other stuff he was worried about. 

  
It was like a very self-destructive (albeit effective) hierarchy of adrenaline.

  
Breathe.

  
The paramedics were _really_ sceptical at first, but after Peter demonstrated his strength and web-agility - with the help of some very nice old lady's armchair and her fire escape - they agreed. 

  
The guy in the stretcher seemed to perk up at the fact that he had a better story to tell than just "I slipped in the shower." 

  
"Thanks, Spider-Man!" He yelled as the ambulance doors shut behind him.

  
"Hey, no problem, man! Feel better!" Peter waved back.

  
"Great job, Peter."

  
"Thanks, Karen. What now?"

  
"Motorbike theft or mugging?"

  
"Mugging, always! Where?"

  
"Go right at the bank."

  
As he closed into the alley (why was it always an alley?), it was clear that the young woman being cornered was being targeted for more than just the expensive tan purse hanging off her shoulder. 

  
The man before her, dishevelled - bloodshot eyes - held a large knife in his outstretched hand, end-point against her breasts.

  
He was speaking quietly, placatingly. Oh yeah, he wanted more.

  
Peter hated those people the most. They made his blood absolutely _boil_.

  
No time to breathe.

  
He jumped straight down, flanking the woman. "Nuh-uh, I don't think so, dude. Move _back_!" He karate kicked the guy away before he had a chance to react, knocking him to his ass and immediately webbing him to the ground at 5 different points. 

  
_Short and sweet._

  
He turned his attention to the woman. She was in shock, heaving breaths. 

  
Peter cast an eye to the felon, trying to calm his raging Spidey-sense anxiety. He'd got him! What was wrong? God, he really was all over the place. "Hey, it's okay. Those webs hold for hours. You okay?"

  
"N-no, I-" Her eyes widened and she began to point, her hoarse voice only managing to shriek, " _look out!_ "

  
White hot pain erupted in the back of his Peter's head, and the base of his neck, and he was biting his tongue and tasting blood before he could even _think_ to _look out_.

  
He fell to his knees immediately, vision swirling and pain fogging all his senses. 

  
"Blunt force head trauma detected. Peter, you've been hit by a crowbar. Get up, before he hurts the civilian or you again."

  
"I-" Peter brought a hand to his head. He was _so_ gonna hurl.

  
" _Now,_ Peter. Get up."

  
The buzz of his Spidey-sense kicking back in and the fear on the woman's face as she seemed dead-rooted to the spot were what got him up and apprehending the second stupid sleuth man. 

  
_Ow, ow, ow._

  
He quickly webbed where the crowbar met the guy's hand to the alley wall with super-tense webbing that pulled his entire body back with the force. 

  
He rested his hands on his bent knees to catch his breath - _breathe, breathe_ \- and squeezed his eyes shut tight with the wave of pain that washed over him. 

  
_Walk it off, Parker._

  
When he turned to make sure the woman was okay, she was gone. 

  
"That's… cool… you're welcome, I guess." He huffed out. 

  
Blech… he really wasn't in a good way. He was dizzy, black spots in his vision. His head was agony. 

  
A migraine-level bloom of agony was beginning. 

  
He gently peeled off his mask and gulped in some air. Ouch. _Ouch._

  
Suddenly conscious of the two men watching him, he webbed himself up and out of the alley with great difficulty and concentration before gently peeling off his mask and gulping in some air. Ouch. _Ouch._ Dizzy.

  
A giddy, desperate laugh escaped his mouth when Captain America came to mind as he realised he was _Seeing Stars_. 

  
Hehe. Stars and Stripes. And all that. 

  
Wait! Captain America wasn't his friend. Captain America was a WAR CRIMINAL. Steve Rogers had hurt Tony, he mused, as he flopped onto his back with a _thud_ into a puddle on some roof or other. 

  
Captain America had fought Tony in Siberia. He was a nasty man. Really mean. Nasty no good Steve America. America... Captain. Roger. Steves?

  
"Gosh, kid, you're a real wordsmith when you've had a knock to the noggin." 

  
Peter registered the loud clank of metal, as the Iron Man suit hastily landed, with a wince and groan. 

  
Tony rushed out of it, dropping to his knees and gently moving Peter's limbs into the recovery position. 

  
His voice was shakey. "Don't hold out on me, I've always wanted to see an urban Shakespeare production."

  
"Tony," Peter breathed, grappling for Tony's pant leg and bunching it up between his fingers. "Call cops. Bad guys. Webbed. Down… down there."

  
Tony was inspecting the back of Peter's head, the other hand cupping his cheek, thumb stroking up and down softly. "Well, that was coherent, at least. FRIDAY, call the cops in about an hour. Scan him first."

  
Peter slumped a little, relieved at the closure of a job completed. 

  
It lasted about .5 of a second, however, when his adrenaline suddenly dropped and he realised how much pain he was in. "Son 'f a _bitch_." He moaned. " _Tony._ "

  
"I'm here, kiddo. I'm here. You're okay." A pause. "What've you got yourself into, huh?"

  
FRIDAY said something. Tony replied, his inflection signalling somewhere in the back of Peter's mind that it was a question directed at _him_ , but he just couldn't be sure of that. 

  
Well, he guessed it was time for a nap. 

  
He pushed his nose into Tony's leg and exhaled.

  
"Nope, nuh-uh, no, no way, absolutely under no circumstances will there be any checking out, Peter. Okay? Now answer my question. How bad's the pain?"

  
"Ten." Peter ground out without a second's hesitation.

  
"Yikes. That's like a billion on the Tony Stark Pain Scale. Okay, buddy. You with me?" Peter felt one of his clammy hands being clasped by a warm one, another settling between his shoulder blades. "FRIDAY says it's just a bad concussion and a superficial cut - head wounds always bleed more than they're actually worth. It's already stopped. C'mon, sit up. Here we go."

  
Peter startled. "Blood?" He asked belatedly, weakly, leaning into Tony.

  
Tony squeezed his hand. "Yeah, kiddo, blood. You're kinda covered in it."

  
That's when Peter puked. 

  
It was horrible, painful, with white exploding in his vision. 

  
Not to be melodramatic, but he wanted to die.

  
"Sorry."

  
Tony sighed in sympathy, rubbing his back and wiping his mouth with the corner of his sleeve. "Never had you down as the squeamish type."

  
"Tried t'not throw up."

  
"Don't do that."

  
"'kay." On command, he gagged again, bringing up more. 

  
Peter felt a jerk of movement as Tony's chest puffed out with a huffed laugh he couldn't help. "Guess I asked for that."

  
"Yep."

  
"Can you stand, buddy?"

  
"Yeah. 'f I keep my eyes closed."

  
"That's fine. I'll help you. You're gonna have to put the mask back on."

  
"Okay."

  
"O-kay. Let's do that." Tony swiped up the mask as he shifted Peter into a clumsy standing position. "Good job, Bambi. Hard part over."

  
He beckoned for the suit to come closer, it surrounding him left hand first, which then was swapped out with the right to clasp around Peter's bicep and keep him standing. 

  
He could feel himself wavering and tilting, just trying to focus on the comfortable bed and those migraine painkillers Tony was inevitably taking him home to.

  
"Mask." He warned, before sliding it on at a random angle. "Trendy. Good to go?"

  
"Uh-huh. S'go."

  
"S'go."

* * *

  
Peter woke in Tony's bed, the man asleep beside him. 

  
His head felt a million billion times better - kudos to the super-human healing - and it actually took him a second to place exactly what it was about lying next to Tony that was supposed to make him nervous. 

  
_Oooh, yeah. Ha ha ha haha aha ahaha. That._

  
Careful not to jostle his still mildly-pounding head, he reached round to feel whether the gash was still there.

  
It wasn't - not even a scar sat under the loosely taped piece of gauze that he peeled off along with a few strands of curly hair. Result.

  
For a moment, he sat staring at Tony. It was 2am - Tony probably made him stay awake for ages before FRIDAY said he could sleep off the rest of the concussion. 

  
He didn't remember, which was probably just as well. Being chewed out wasn't something he really felt like remembering if he had the choice.

  
Should he stay? Should he go back to his room?

  
 _Should I stay or should I go now…_ Classic. Song 13 on his _May_ playlist.

  
Well, he had to pee, so he quietly slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. It killed time before he had to decide, at least.

  
As he washed his hands, he splashed some water on his face and took some steadying breaths. Nose, mouth.

  
Then there was a knock at the door. "Peter? You okay?" 

  
Peter's panicked voice was hoarse when he tried to reply, and he had to clear it before anything actually came out.

  
"I'm good!" He called back, very unconvincingly.

  
"Alright." Peter exhaled. "We need to talk when you're done."

  
_Crap._

  
Tony was waiting on the bed for him. 

  
A cruel headache beginning to form, Peter crawled back in, lying on his side facing him. It was reminiscent of just a month ago, on May's birthday. He pushed the memory to the back of his head.

  
Tony smiled at him, eyes crinkling in affection. Some tension left Peter as he reached down and felt for his temperature with the back of his hand against his forehead.

  
"You feel okay?"

  
"Fine."

  
He withdrew his hand. "Okay. So, I'm gonna speak, and then you can speak after that."

  
"Okay."

  
"I thought I said I was speaking?"

  
Peter smiled. "Sorry."

  
Tony smiled back. "Strike 2, junior."

  
Peter motioned zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key. Tony had his back against the headboard, only his head turned to face him. "That's right." He turned away. "First off, kiddo, I have to apologise. I'm guessing you ran off for some impromptu Spider-Manning because I didn't react well to the adoption papers."

  
Peter gulped. Tony looked at him. He shrugged.

  
"Before you panic, it's not because of what you think."

  
Peter's eyes narrowed. What did he mean? He didn't get it. What else could it have been? Was Pepper pregnant or something? 

  
What Tony actually said made his heart almost burst.

  
"I really want to be your dad. Of _course_ I do, Peter. That's, like, life goal of mine numero uno. No _doubt_." Tony paused.

  
"So, why?" He asked, his voice small.

  
"I was scared."

  
_Scared?_

  
" _Why?_ "

  
"I didn't want to let May down. I-I don't know, I didn't want to disrespect her memory. I can never be her."

  
"I know that."

  
"I know you do. I… I know. I just panicked. I never thought I'd be a dad. I've told you a thousand times how crappy my dad was, and I didn't want to be a carbon copy of that."

  
Peter nodded earnestly. "If you were, I wouldn't have given you that form."

  
Tony's mouth turned up a little at the corners, sadly. Peter felt a surge of protectiveness for him. 

  
"I really want this, Tony."

  
Tony turned bodily to look at him this time, uncrossing his legs. "Yeah?" 

  
"Yes. I really do."

  
Tony didn't reply. Just smiled, his eyes unreadable.

  
"I realised how much you tell me you love me and how I hardly ever say it back. And I know May better than anyone, and I've thought about it for so long. I know what she'd want. And this is exactly it."

  
"Yeah?" Tony repeated. "I don't know what it is, but somehow I doubt I'd top the list of prospective godfathers if it were May Parker who was picking."

  
"If she could see you now, you would."

  
Tony didn't reply.

  
"Love you, Tony. I want this. I dunno, I feel like, like… I _need_ this."

  
Tony took his hand and squeezed it, warming it between his palms. "I love you too, kid. I want this too. You know I do."

  
"So let's do it!"

  
Tony laughed. "We're gonna do this?"

  
"We're gonna do this!"

  
"Can't argue with that." Tony grinned. 

  
Peter sat up and immediately folded himself into Tony's waiting arms. Tony rested his chin on Peter's head, both of them taking comfort in the way they slotted together so easily. 

  
"Happy belated Father's Day?" Peter murmured.

  
"That it is, kiddo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the bit of this chapter about Peter having a dream he was talking to May on the phone actually happened to me a couple weeks after my grandma died. I was 10, the youngest of 6 grandchildren by quite a long way & she told me i was the baby and she'd look out for me BUT WHEN I TRIED TO REPLY THERE WAS A DIAL TONE AND IT WAS ALL SCRATCHY FOR GODS SAKE
> 
> aNYWAY I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY PLEASE LMK WHAT YOU THINK  
> MUCH LOVE  
> GOING TO SLEEP NOW LOSINGMYMINDTONIGHT I SWEAR


	6. The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! It's the last one wOO
> 
> This chapter requires a lot of suspension of disbelief in terms of geography, medicine, physics and just about everything else. Just roll with it. It's probably glaringly inaccurate in all of these senses and more, but HEY! It's fanfiction for a reason, right?!
> 
> I also have my own personally attuned Spidey-Sense for glaring errors in my work; it basically goes off like crazy, but won't tell me where the error is. I'll catch it eventually, but in the meantime, I'm sorry for what is probably a BILLION typos, grammar errors and unfinished sentences.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

  
“Breakfast!”

  
“Had it!”

  
“Not enough!”

  
“I’m going!”

  
“It’s too early!”

  
“I’m outta here!”

  
“Nope!”

  
“Bye!”

  
“Freeze the elevator, FRI.”

  
“You got it, Boss.”

  
“Hey—oh, come _on!”_

  
Across the room, Tony threw an orange, apple and banana one at a time at Peter’s head. Peter wasn’t looking – too busy jamming the elevator buttons - but he caught them all the same, tossing them between his hands till he was juggling all three, a playful grin on his face.

  
Tony gave him a wilting look.

  
“I mean, if you wanted me to do circus tricks, you could’ve just asked.” Peter threw the apple back. “I’m good, thanks.”

  
Tony caught it. “I think _I_ decide whether you’re _good_ or not,” he threw it right back, “and, after careful consideration,” the two were in a full-blown food fight by now, the fruit flying between them wildy, “I happen to think you’re _bad.”_

  
Peter dropped his jaw in exaggerated offence. _”Bad?”_

  
“Abhorrent. Horrendous. Abominable.” With each word, Tony caught the fruit one by one and held onto them. He approached Peter, cocking his head to the side. Once he was up close he placed them firmly back into his hands. “All words they’ll use to describe me in court when Pepper sends me down for child neglect.”

  
“I thought we were friends.” Peter pouted. 

  
“Awful presumptious of you.”

  
He chomped down on the apple and made an over-gratuitous _’Mmmmmm!’_ sound, offering it to Tony in a sarcastic _’Wow, you gotta try this!’_ kind of manner. 

  
Tony narrowed his eyes with a grimace. “No thanks. Cooties.”

  
“Rude.”

  
“Well, you know, it _is_ my middle name.”

  
“It’s actually Edward.”

  
“Partial credit!”

  
“Edward’s super lame.”

  
Tony swept round from where he was making coffee. “Oh? Is it, _Benjamin?”_

  
“Benjamin’s cooler than Edward.”

  
“Benjamin Button. It’s cute. Like you. You’re cute.”

  
“Edward Scissorhands.”

  
“Benjamin Bunny. Ooh, that’s a niche one. Also alliterative. _And_ still cute.”

  
“Edward… Cullen.”

  
“Whoa, hold up now. That’s a step too far.” 

  
Peter chuckled. “Yeah, my bad. I’m actually sorry for that one.”

  
He came and stood with his shoulder against Tony’s, who was now cradling his coffee as he leant against the back of the couch, facing the elevator.

  
Peter expertly threw the apple core into the trash from a distance, muttering a _yeet_ under his breath as he did so.

  
He then made a start on the orange. He dropped the peeled bits of skin into Tony’s outstretched hand. 

  
“You could’ve spared my self esteem and said Edward Hopper or something with a _little_ more compliment behind it, you know.”

  
“Hm. Yeah. I see what you’re saying. You’re, like, a visionary, sure, but you’re no Edward Hopper. But I _totally_ get where you’re coming from.” Peter said decidedly, shoving 3 segments in his mouth at once and looking up at Tony, laughing. “You’re gonna miss me.”

  
“I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone you loathed.” He flung an arm round Peter’s shoulders. “’course I will, kid. It’s gonna be quieter than a cemetery round here. S’gonna be _hell.”_ He emphasised the last word with a squeeze to the kids arm.

  
“It’s only a week.” Peter’s phone pinged and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Ned’s mom’s pulled up outside.” 

  
Tony nodded. “You got everything?”

  
“I mean, I hope so.”

  
“Toothbrush?”

  
“Check.”

  
“Charger?”

  
“Yup. Check.”

  
“Earphones?”

  
“Uh…” He patted himself down, ripping them from his back pocket. “Check.”

  
“Suit…?”

  
Peter squinted. “No.”

  
Tony nodded, pleased.

  
“Hug from your old man?”

  
Peter smirked and threw his arms around Tony’s neck. “Check.” 

  
When they pulled away, Tony held him at arm’s length, hands on his shoulders. “See you next Saturday, kiddo. Be safe. Have _fun._ Try and… relax a little?” He voiced the last one as a suggestion, relinquishing his hands to make a shrugging gesture.

  
Peter smiled softly. “I’ll try. Seeya, Tony.” He lugged his heaving bag over his shoulder and waggled the banana at him. “I promise I’ll eat this in the car.”

  
“You’d better. Seeya, Pete. Fly safe.”

  
“FRIDAY, please can you unfreeze the elevator please?”

  
“Sure thing, Peter.”

  
“Thanks a bunch.” 

  
“You’re welcome, Peter.”

  
Just as he left, he turned and stuck his tongue out at Tony. “She definitely likes me more.”

  
Tony laughed. “You’re probably right. Go on, get outta here. Remember to call!”

  
“I will!” The doors slid shut.

  
He stayed stood there for a few seconds, just letting the silence settle around him.

  
Weird. 

  
“Well, this gonna be one boring ass week,” he sighed. “FRI, call Pepper.”

  
He downed the rest of his coffee on his way to dump the peelings in the trash – ever since he’d burnt his tongue that time, he’d developed an appreciation for knocking it back scalding – then rinsed the mug out in the sink.

  
“Tony?”

  
“Hey, Pep. You got some stuff you need to me to do? I’ll come by.”

  
“I… I mean, _yes!_ Yes, Tony, yes, of course I do. What—”

  
“Perfect! I’ll be there in 20.”

  
“Wait—this is suspicious. I’m suspicious. Tony, why are you being so suddenly out of character and helpful?”

  
Her voice followed him to his room, where he began pulling his shoes on. He chuckled. “I just miss you, is all.”

  
“Uh huh.”

  
 _”What?!_ Can’t a guy miss his missus without being accused of heinous crimes?”

  
“No.”

  
“Well then. That is a grand shame.”

  
“Where’s Peter?”

  
“Camp. I’m bored.”

  
“Okay. Now it makes sense. I’ll get the papers out. I also need you to block off your time for these meetings, and that press conference – oh, and the talks in Stockholm. And there’s the preliminary blueprints for the… you know what? I’ll just wait for you to get here.”

  
He laughed. “I do really miss you, you know.”

  
“Not as much as Peter, clearly.”

  
“Nuh-uh! Not! It’s equal!”

  
“Whatever. It’s fine, I prefer him too. Just get your ass here.”

* * *

  
Peter had been signed up for this astrophysics summer camp since before May had died. 

  
It was prestigious as fuck, and Tony remembered him bouncing _(literally)_ off the lab walls on the phone to May when he’d gotten the email to say he’d been accepted – he’d almost given Tony a hernia just running about trying to keep things _un_ broken in his wake.

  
Peter had to go through rigorous applications to get in, over a year in advance, and May had paid a lot of money towards it; money that Tony imagined wasn’t exactly just lying around. 

  
After his lawyers had sorted through her estate, he had come to realise that May Parker didn’t have much money put by for a rainy day: whatever she had, it was for Peter.

  
So, obviously, Tony had really wanted him to still go.

  
He liked that preservation of normality and would do anything he could to make sure Peter was continuing to get _that_ life, the kind of life that May wanted for him.

  
But, at first, Peter had been unsure. 

  
Tony had brought it up and he’d gone quiet - teary, even - and it’d surprised him, if he was honest. Less and less things were upsetting Peter these days, but when something did, Tony still couldn’t help that protective pit forming in his stomach that wanted to fix everything _right now, right away._

  
So he’d almost dropped it altogether.

  
But then he’d found out Ned was going, and that disaster of a boy needed Peter at his side if he was going to be away from home for anything longer than a couple hours.

  
Besides, Ned and Peter had barely spent any time together since May had died. 

  
It probably had something to do with the fact that Tony and Peter were… well, practically joined at the hip.

  
He hated to admit it, but he and the kid had become a little co-dependent. 

  
He’d realised it when he found himself about to say _’I’d like to make a reservation for three.’_ for his and Pepper’s anniversary. 

  
Like, okay, sure. He wanted to be there for Peter, and he _loved_ being close with the kid. Peter really needed someone he could depend on right now, and Tony couldn’t put into words how happy he was that he got to be that guy. He was the kid’s _father_ now, for heaven’s sake. It was everything he’d never known he’d wanted, and even moreso everything he’d never known he’d needed. 

  
He cursed himself a little at that thought, downing his tools and massaging his forehead. Was it wrong of him to get joy out of this situation?

  
May Parker had tragically died _way_ before her time, and Tony was reaping the benefits.

  
It should never have been that way. Not in a million years should Peter Parker have lost his 4th parent before he was even out of his teens. Not in a _billion._

  
And here _he_ was, Tony Selfish Stark, back again, treating it as a lottery win.

  
He stood suddenly, checking himself. He shook his head. No.

  
He scolded himself under his breath as he paced to grab his rag and wipe down his hands. “Just _once,_ don’t make this about you, for god’s sake.” 

  
He wasn’t taking advantage of Peter’s bad situation. He was making the _best of it._ Trying to be what the kid needed. 

  
And if he enjoyed it - _loved_ it – then all the better.

  
So, bearing in mind the acceptance that maybe he needed to back off from the helicopter parenting a little, when Tony had found out that Ned Leeds was going to be let loose, far from home, _alone,_ he’d decided then and there. Peter was going.

  
It’d taken a little while, but Peter’s excitement snowballed as the time approached. Tony had heaved a sigh of relief, safe in the knowledge that he had in fact made the right parenting decision. For once.

  
The kid had been gone 3 days, calling for a little while each night before bed. Tony found himself pottering around from 9pm onwards, waiting for his call.

  
It was about 9:45 now. Peter had so far always called by 10, and Tony was beginning to get… a little restless.

  
He was in the lab, testing the nanotech for the as-yet unworn Iron Spider suit to make sure it was adaptable to fit Peter’s growing teenage body. He was planning to properly gift it to the kid on his 17th birthday.

  
It was tiring work, and made his eyes hurt, but the sense of satisfaction he got from it was a kind he’d never felt whilst working on any of his ex-teammates’ kit.

  
“Peter’s calling, Boss.”

  
He sat up immediately. “Yep.”

  
“Hey, Tony!”

  
“Hey, Pete.” He felt a soft smile settle on his face. “How you doin’?”

  
“I’m alright, yeah! You?”

  
“I’m fine. Tell me about your day.” He pushed his sleeves up, crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, shuffling his shoulders till he was comfortable, then closed his eyes.

  
“It was pretty awesome! We got to have free time at this pop-up Training Centre and I went on the Multi-Axis Trainer – it’s so _crazy,_ it simulates being in a space capsule that’s in free-tumble, and it’s meant to make you super dizzy and I had to act really drunk – which is actually pretty difficult when you’ve had no experience, just to clarify - and pretend I couldn’t stand up, because I’m,” he chuckled, “well, you know. And we did some Cosmic Origins stuff after lunch, which I think is probably my favourite so far, and we were looking at how this really cool telescope called NuSTAR, or something, works, that basically creates a census but for _black holes,_ isn’t that neat? Like, it’s making a list of all the black holes out there, and… it’s like—the—the…”

  
Tony quirked an eyebrow at the sudden trailing-off. “Like…?”

  
Peter’s response was delayed. When he did speak, there was a quality to his voice that sounded Not Quite Right to Tony’s ears. “Sorry, I got distracted. What was I saying again?” he laughed nervously.

  
He didn’t know whether to press it or not. So he didn’t. “Census of black holes?”

  
“Right, yeah. It looks into deep space and compiles a list of them all.” He didn’t elaborate any further. Tony frowned.

  
“You okay, bud?” He was sitting forward now. He raised a hand in the air, clicking his fingers and pointing to his cell phone in a silent order to FRIDAY to transfer it.

  
“Hm? Yeah, m’okay.”

  
His phone lit up, and he picked it up. “You sure? You don’t sound it.”

  
“No, yeah, I’m… fine… I just…”

  
He pressed it harder against his ear, concern inadvertently leaking through his stern voice. “Peter. What’s going on?” 

  
“My Spidey Sense is going crazy right now.” Peter said softly, all in one breath.

  
Tony’s stomach twisted. “Yeah?”

  
“Yeah. I dunno.”

  
“Where are you right now?”

  
“The common area. Ned’s here. Everyone else is at the bonfire in the forest.”

  
“Stay there, okay? Don’t move. Deep breaths. Can you do that?”

  
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” Tony breathed too, hoping Peter’s enhanced hearing could pick it up over the phone. His mind was going crazy, unsure what to do. 

  
Peter’s sixth sense was never wrong: he was in danger. Tony urged the gag of fear back down his throat.

  
“Pete, can you see anything different?”

  
“I… no, nothing. Ned?”

  
He heard a faint, “Nothing outside, either.” from Ned, and Peter relayed it to Tony. Tony grunted in response. 

  
“Okay. D’you feel any better? Or is it still freaking out?”

  
“Stiiiiiill freaking. I don’t get it. Maybe I’m overtired? The dorm’s kinda noisy at ni-- _whoa._ ” 

  
Tony froze.

  
“Whoa? What d’you mean, _whoa,_ Peter? What’s _whoa?”_

  
Ned was saying something in the background, voice raised in panic. 

  
“Peter! Ned! What’s going on?” 

  
“Tony, I think it’s an earthquake. I think it’s an earthquake. Shit. _Shit!_ Ned, get over here, _c’mon!”_

  
It was safe to say Tony had stopped breathing. “Peter, get under a table or something. Right now.”

  
“I’m pullin’ it under the door, I’m trying!”

  
Peter’s voice was faraway, as if he’d put his phone down and forgot to put it on speakerphone. Tony inwardly cursed him. Ned was cursing aloud, a yelp of surprise punctuated by a heavy crash piercing Tony’s ear a second later. _“Peter!”_

  
There was no reply. The only small comfort he had was that he could still hear both boys shouting things to one another amongst the terrifying rumbling and crashing. 

  
“They’re gonna— the trees are—oh my god, oh my _god!”_ Peter was panicking now, Tony along with him. He couldn’t hear everything he was saying, and when he tried to get more information out of him, he quickly realised it was futile. There was no way he was being heard over the noise.

  
He was engaging in his suit, yelling at FRIDAY to tell Rhodey to suit up _right fucking now,_ when he heard Ned desperately… shrieking Peter’s name. 

  
“Peter! Stop! Peter! What the hell are you doing, Peter! Oh my _god_ come back! _Peter, please!”_

  
The lack of oxygen to Tony’s brain from holding his breath was giving him a headrush. Hearing Ned’s pleas had made his veins turned to ice. 

  
What the _hell_ was his stupid kid doing? 

  
“Ned? Ned! Can you hear me? FRI, can you boost me to speaker any way?” 

  
“On it, Boss.” 

  
Tony, now in the suit, flinched at the sudden boost in surround-sound. Ned’s scared voice was not something he ever wanted to hear in HQ. 

  
“Ned, listen to me. Breathe. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  
The crashing had stopped now, but it was clear from the background clamour that something was going on nearby.

  
“Breathing. Yeah. Breathe.” He exhaled audibly. “Oh my god. I’m… yeah, I’m okay, I think, Mr Stark – it was a bad one – oh my god, part of the cabin’s collapsed, not near us, but— oh my god—"

  
 _”Shit._ Get out of there, you hear me?”

  
“Okay, okay!”

  
“Ned, where’s Peter?”

  
Ned paused. There were footsteps, and then he cursed under his breath. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit, _shit._ ”

  
“Ned. Tell me.”

  
_At Mach 5, I can make it there in an hour and a half._

  
“Peter’s—I tried to stop him, Mr Stark, I swear, but he heard screaming, and… shit!“ There was a tremble in Ned’s voice and Tony’s gut instinct to _protect_ painfully extended from Peter to include his best friend.

  
“Ned! You’re killin’ me here, buddy. Out with it, _please._ ” 

  
“Mr Stark, he’s… there’s a fire out just past the cabins, i-in the woods. It’s bad. He suited up and left! I really did try to stop him, I swear, but he never listens to me!”

  
_He suited up and left._

  
Tony clenched his fist. He swallowed convulsively, feeling his face crease and teeth grit with anger. 

  
The blur of city below him was interrupted by FRIDAY alerting him onscreen to a drastic jump in his blood pressure. 

  
_”Suit…?”_  
_”No.”_

  
This. 

  
Fucking. 

  
_Kid._

  
“FRI. Get me his stats right now.”

  
“I can’t, Boss. Connection’s not going through.”

  
“There isn’t—I don’t think there’s much network here, Mr Stark. We can’t get online at all.” 

  
_Fantastic._ Just _perfect._

  
Peter’s suit wasn’t built to filter intense smoke like this. He’d never imagined a situation like this. What an _idiot_ he was. Cruel self-reproach bloomed in his chest.

  
When he got his hands on Spider-Man, he was _so_ over. He was _so very_ dead. Deceased. Straight up rigor mortis.

  
… as long as he was okay.

  
God, he hoped he was okay. 

  
He couldn’t lose him. He could _not_ lose that reckless, self-sacrificial little shit. 

  
Heavy pants of anxiety on the end of the line pulled him together just enough to appear calm for Ned. 

  
“Ned. Don’t go near the fire, okay? Find adults and get somewhere safe. There could be aftershocks, or tremors, or whatever the hell else, I don’t know. Just… can you see him?” 

  
“Uh—I can’t see him. Sorry, Mr Stark. I’ll… keep an eye out.”

  
“Alright. Thanks, kid. Now hang up and call for help, ‘kay? Call your mom.” He restrained himself before he deadpanned a black-humoured, _’Call your priest.’_ “Just… stay safe. I’m on my way.” 

  
“You’re… you’re coming?”

  
“Sure am. Look out for my kid in the meantime, won’t you?”

  
“Yeah. Yeah. Of course I will.”

  
“See you soon.”

  
“Yeah… okay, thank you, Mr Stark. Bye.”

* * *

  
Ned text to say he’d been taken to a safe-ground around a half-hour later, and that emergency services were on their way. He quietly added in a separate message that there was still no sign of Peter. 

  
Tony was pushing the suit to its absolute limits. 

  
FRIDAY was submitting any small piece of information the AI could gather about the earthquake and fire as it became available, the route loaded up ready for when Tony began to lose signal.

  
Rhodey was about 10 minutes behind him. After a short phone call with him, in which Tony was just as short-tempered and rude as you’d expect from a man right on the edge (Rhodey understood), and a slightly less high-strung one with Pepper, he hung up and was left with his thoughts. Yay. His all-time _favourite_ thing.

  
His reflex action every ten minutes or so was to call Peter, but the stomach-sinking reminder that his phone was with Ned threw him for a loop every time. 

  
All he wanted was to hear his voice right now. 

  
To hear his laugh, or his whiney tone when he was annoyed, or the tenth Facebook Trivia Page fact about J.R.R. Tolkien in a row. Absolutely anything would be welcome right about now.

  
 _How_ could this be happening? Peter Parker was the unluckiest kid he’d met. It hurt all the more knowing he was the kid most undeserving of it that he’d ever meet, too.

  
 _So why the hell has he done this?_ Why in the _fucking world_ has he gone put himself in _too much fucking danger to even contemplate?_

  
Duh.

  
He was Peter Parker. 

  
Selfless maniac extraordinaire.

  
Tony rolled his eyes into the back of his head and craved the feel of his fingers against his temples. The reason he loved the kid so damn much was the same thing that was gonna kill them both.

  
It was agonisingly slow-going, despite his high speed. Every second that went by without word back from Peter was weighing down his already anxiety-heavy mind.

  
After 67 minutes flight time, he began to see the orange glow on the midnight-sky horizon. Fear was making his hands tingle and his head pound.

  
After 74, it was right upon him. 

  
By 76, he was swerving In and out of smoke, ash and dead heat trying to get a view. The forest wasn’t huge, but it was by no means small, either. The flames had caught onto the cabins and buildings now, and an area about two and a half square miles in size was being steadily consumed.

  
Scattered ambulances, fire trucks and fighters, cast in a morbid blue hue that made nausea swell in his gut, were making a small dent in the blaze from a few directions, but not fast enough. 

  
Thankfully, the surrounding area was only fields. Tony thanked every deity he could think of, including the KFC Colonel and Obama, for the fact that it could spread no further. 

  
“Fat load of help it is looking for heat signatures.” He voiced in frustration.

  
“The emergency safe-ground’s a couple miles north-west of here.” 

  
“Call Rhodey and tell him to double-check there first and get back to me. Ned would’ve told me if he was there. I’m gonna head further down to get a proper look-see.”

  
He descended slowly, entering over the forest from the direction Peter would have come. A few minutes in, however, it became clear that that wasn’t going to work. 

  
His suit had oxygen filters superior to Peter’s, by far – but it was visibility that was his problem. He tried casting torch-light through the smoke and pitch blackness, shouting Peter’s name, but it was no use. His frustration and deep-set panic and fear was making it even more difficult for him. 

  
_My kid’s in there somewhere._

  
He reluctantly did a 180 and returned to where the largest group of firefighters were. 

  
“Didn’t expect to see you way out here, Iron Man!” One called to him. 

  
“My kid’s at this camp. How many are you missing?”

  
“Crap, man. I’m sorry. Two. We’re missing two, we’re pretty sure.” The man’s face changed as he exchanged glances with a woman nearby. “We heard… well, we saw that… one of them was Spider-Man. He was roping himself back in there before we could get ahold of him.”

  
Tony didn’t reply. His heart was too busy trying to escape from his ribcage.

  
The woman was quick to jump in after reading his expression. “Oh, God. Don’t worry, man. We get it. Secret identity. Not a word from us.” She took a tentative step closer. “We’ll get him out.”

  
“Yeah, yeah, no, of course. We’re just here to save your kid. Not a word.”

  
Tony inhaled a very shaky breath. “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

  
The man considered for a second, then began to pace away with speed and purpose. Tony followed closely. “We need height. If you can give it to us.”

  
“I can do that.”

* * *

  
Rhodey arrived just as Tony was being being handed his fourth hose. His face-plate lifted and he wordlessly met Tony’s eyes. Tony drew what comfort and strength he could from his best friend’s expression with a nod before taking off. Rhodey did so too, heading for a separate group of fighters to do the same.

  
Rising up again to douse the area in water and extinguish the flames at a much faster rate was not as therapeutic as he wanted it to be. 

  
He couldn’t help but feel that every second that passed by was a second closer to him never seeing Peter again. 

  
His left eye was twitching with the strain of that thought alone.

  
He carried on yelling Peter’s name, his voice was getting hoarser and hoarser with each frantic, furious call, but he kept on at it. 

  
The heat began to die down as it was isolated faster and faster and a flicker of hope rose inside him when he found no trace of Peter, or the other missing person, in the areas that had been extinguished of particularly fierce flame.

  
“Incoming called from Colonel Rhodes, Boss.”

  
“Rhodey. Please tell me—” 

  
“Two heat signatures, Tony. I’m going in. Your 2 o’clock. Quick as you can.”

  
Without command or much time for his reaction, FRIDAY boosted the repulsors in Rhodey’s direction. Tony dropped the hoses, his heart _thump-thumping_ in his ears, drowning out everything else as though he were trapped underwater.

  
“Guide me in.” He all but whispered.

  
His screen-vision turned to heat signature, and sure enough, he saw clumped-together two red blobs in an as-yet unburnt area. 

  
The fire was approaching quickly. The pair were obviously simply trying to outrun it.

  
“Tones, we need them out _now_. No time for chitchat. You grab the one on the left. Take them straight North. It’s the fastest exit.”

  
Tony nodded. He was getting closer.

  
“Tony. _Do you copy?”_

  
“Yes.”

  
“Good. It’ll be okay man. They’re moving.”

  
Smoke was hazing his entire vision as he crashed through the trees at the same time as Rhodey. He couldn’t see who he was picking up, his quick reflex movements showing their worth as he hooked his hands under their armpits and sheltered them from the branches in their blast upwards.

  
He knew straight away it wasn’t Peter. The kid was heavier, was screaming. Was clearly relatively okay. Wasn’t his.

  
“It’s alright. You’re alright.” He voiced aloud. He looked around for Rhodey, who was up ahead. “You’re fine. _Rhodey._ Tell me he’s okay.”

  
“He’s okay, Tones. He’s alright.”

  
“Tell him I’m here. Please.”

  
“He’s…. a little out of it right now, man. He’ll be okay. We just need to get him outta here and he’ll be fine.”

  
_Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

  
The kid’s screaming didn’t die down the entire time they were flying. Tony kept up his reassurances, but tuned out the responding cries on the off-chance that they got too much for him and he dropped the child. Everything in him was drawn towards the vague, limp-looking figure hanging from Rhodey’s arms with a violent ache.

  
Ambulances were waiting for them as they landed. Paramedics rushed to them immediately, and Tony barely recalled putting the kid down with a brisk pat on the shoulder before rushing over to where more of them were swarming Rhodey and, more importantly, the figure he was laying down on a stretcher.

  
He stumbled out of the suit like a man breaking the skin of freezing water for air. 

  
_“Peter.”_ He urged himself forward, needing to see him, to hold his hand and run his hand through his hair and cup his cheek and let the kid smile at him all giddy and naïve and _so damn stupid,_ and when he’s better and alright and okay, let him chew him out to high hell with that sheepish, deeply apologetic expression that makes him feel bad for ever _considering_ shouting at Peter Parker. His kid.

  
“Tones, c’mere. C’mon. Stay back. Let them… let them work.”

  
“What? No, Rhodey, let me see him. Rhodes, let me _see_ him!” 

  
“I’m so sorry, Tony. He was awake when I got to him, but he passed right out the second we got in the air. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

  
 _"No."_

  
He didn’t realise that he was on his knees, tears and snot running into his mouth and making him choke until he was being bodily pulled away from the clamouring medics as aggressive, desperate resuscitations were pounded into his kid’s chest, a huge oxygen mask brought down, covering his lifeless, deathly pale-white features. 

  
_”Peter! Peter!”_

  
An agonising feeling was buzzing in every cell of his body. He recognised it. This is what dying felt like. 

  
This was Pepper falling into the fire, her fingers slipping from his grasp.

  
This was Rhodey hitting the ground like a rag doll.

  
This was his Mom. Murdered.

  
But no. This wasn’t that. Wasn’t them.

  
This was _Peter._

  
_His_ Peter.

  
His son.

  
_His._

  
His everything.

  
“I’ve got nothing!”

  
“Airway's severely compromised!”

  
Everything was starting to slip away. The sound in his ears was swirling down a drain, distant. Barely an echo. 

  
“Stand back!”

  
“Clear!”

  
“Shocking!”

  
His vision was gone. Black.

  
“Clear!”

  
“Shocking!”

  
“No output!”

  
No parent should have to live without their child. 

  
Tony had never wanted to die more in his entire life.

* * *

  
Planning a funeral for someone taken way before their time was probably the most cruel responsibility god had given man. 

  
He’d purposely de-capitalised _god_ in his mind’s eye out of stubborn, broken disrespect a long time ago. 

  
He was numb to _god_. Numb to most things now.

  
There was no god. And if there was, he was the most evil being of them all.

  
Sudden, unexpected deaths were arguably more painful than the rest. Never getting to say goodbye? god was a real ugly bastard.

  
Like, do they want to be cremated? Buried under a tree, cardboard coffin? Egyptian tomb?

  
What songs would they want sung?

  
Can their exes come? 

  
What happens to their stuff? Their car? Their apartment? Their bank account?

  
Their 16 year old, now-orphaned nephews?

  


  
That was why, after the shambolically awful day that was May Parker’s funeral, Tony Stark decided that he was re-writing his will to include funeral plans, down to the last minute, excruciating detail.

  
The final point of which was **24) Let Peter disregard every step of this plan and do whatever the hell he wants.**

  
**The foolhardy little twerp will probably do that anyway.**

* * *

  
Pepper let 4 cups of coffee she’d brought him go cold from lack of touch before giving up on _that_ idea altogether.

  
4 cups of coffee, 5 days at Peter’s bedside.

  
They’d taken him off the ventilator on day 2. 

  
Tony had been ready since day 1. Now it was just a waiting game.

  
In all fairness, he’d had _enough_ of waiting by day 3.

  
 _He’s healing,_ Cho said, with a small, reassuring smile, _the spider in him just knows that sleep gets the job done faster. He’ll wake when he’s ready._

  
“If you could be ready sometime soon, kiddo, that’d be real great.” He rubbed his tacky thumb over Peter’s hand. He needed to shower. He knew that. “You said you’d only be gone a week, and I’m missing you like hell.”

  
He sniffed wetly, wiping his nose with the back of his other hand. 

  
“I swear I won’t even yell that much.” He huffed a completely humourless laugh. “I mean, I’m mad as all hell. But I get it. That’s probably why you’re not waking up. Because you’re stubborn, and don’t want to let me have my fun giving you a good tongue-lashing.”

  
His eyelids were drooping, his head weighing down. “Wake me up when you do, bud.”

  
Legs crossed and hand still entwined with Peter’s cool fingers, he leaned his tense body back in the chair. A couple hours were optimistic, but worth trying for.

* * *

  
“Tony. _Tony.”_

  
He jerked forward, awake all at once, shocked by the fierce crushing pressure around his fingers. He turned, ignoring the subsequent whiplash-dizziness of the movement, rewarded with two tired brown eyes and a tearful smile. “Peter?!”

  
All the anger in him was gone, washed away by intense relief. He grinned. 

  
_”Tony.”_ Peter’s voice was no more than a weak croak, and Tony quickly grabbed the cup of water beside him, helping him to take a few sips from the straw. 

  
“Careful, your throat is really raw.” Peter didn’t reply, just nodded. “I’m… guessing you know that.”

  
The two just stared at each other for a second. Tony squeezed Peter’s hand with both of his, trying to warm it up. He then brought one of them to his face. Peter turned into the contact greedily and let his eyes drift shut against it. 

  
Tony regarded him silently, love and contentment, fear, disappointment and a shit-ton other strong emotions swelling up in him. He sighed. “Oh my _god,_ Peter.” 

  
Alarmed at the brokenness in his voice, Peter’s eyes opened again. They pricked with tears straight away. “Tony. I’m so sorry.”

  
“You know I know that.”

  
“I know.”

  
“Why did you do it, Pete? Why did you _lie_ to me?”

  
“Didn’t want you to be mad.”

  
Tony raised his eyebrows, a sardonic expression playing on his features. 

  
Peter dropped his gaze in an appropriately ashamed manner. “The suit makes me feel better because it makes me feel closer to you when you’re not there.”

  
 _Aw, crap._ Affection leaked into Tony’s expression. His voice was gentle when he spoke. “It’s okay, buddy.”

  
“No, it’s not. I screwed up big time. You’re supposed to yell at me.”

  
Tony’s thumb was stroking up and down his cheek bone now, trying to lull him into calm. “It’s cute you trying to put me in my place. But I’m done. I think this is enough of a punishment for you.” Peter smiled grimly in agreement. “Anything hurting?”

  
Peter shook his head. 

  
“Anything feel weird?”

  
“Not really. Just tired.”

  
“Okay. You okay?” He turned Peter’s chin towards him and looked him right in the eyes.

  
“Are you?”

  
“I asked first.”

  
“I’m fine. Are you?”

  
Tony considered the question. Then he answered truthfully. “You scared the shit out of me, Peter. Seriously. I thought you were gonna die. You’ve been out for five days.”

  
Abject fear dawned on Peter’s face. _”Five?”_

  
“Your heart conked out. They couldn’t get it going again for 5 minutes, Pete. I honestly thought you were dead back there.”

  
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Tony, I’m so sorry.” His thin voiced cracked on his name. Tony’s barely pieced-together heart fluttered.

  
“Don’t apologise, please. I’ll start crying all over again. I can’t do it. I’m dehydrated as it is.”

  
Peter’s wide, brimming eyes scanned him up and down, then he pointed to the cup of water. “Drink that.” 

  
Tony obeyed. 

  
Appeased, Peter feebly pushed himself up in bed. Tony reached out to help him, unsure of what he was doing, when Peter grabbed his outstretched arm and pulled it towards him. “Now get in.”

  
“What?”

  
“Get in. You look like you haven’t slept in, like, 2 months.”

  
Tony grumbled, “Five days, but whatever.” 

  
“Oh my god, don’t be a child.” Tony spluttered an incredulous laugh at that but climbed onto the narrow bed all the same. 

  
He wrapped his arms around Peter, who immediately tucked himself into his side. 

  
Tony began carding his fingers through his hair. Peter’s nose puffed warm air onto his chest.

  
It was quiet for a while, both of them just caught up in the comforting rhythm of one other. The stability of each other’s presence, there, solid. It was as equally longed for.

  
Then, when Tony thought he was asleep, Peter spoke. 

  
“Is everyone okay? Ned?” He whispered.

  
Tony matched his voice in volume, keeping it to a low murmur in his ear, accompanied by the continued hand working through his smoke-smelling curls. 

  
“They’re all fine. You saved them all, Peter.” Peter didn’t reply. Tony swallowed, then spoke again. “I know I’m furious about what you did, but I understand why you did it.”

  
Peter nodded against him. 

  
“My amazing, stupidly brave, selfless kid. I hate you, you know that?”

  
Peter nosed his shirt, exhaling his surrender to sleep. “Love you too, Dad.”

  
A broad smile crept onto his lips, meeting his eyes for the first time in what felt like years. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Peter’s head.

  
“Love you more, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow... so... yeah. Sorry? Nah. I'm not.
> 
> Writing this fic has proved to be such a wonderful experience thanks to all you guys and your wonderful comments, and kudos, and just everything!!! I love you all so much & thank you for sticking with me!! I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 <3 <3
> 
> I'll be seeing you in my other WIP, which I will get started on ASAP!
> 
> P.S. I bowed to peer pressure and got a tumblr!!! It's under the same username (caraminha) so come and chat with me!!! <3

**Author's Note:**

> getting comments emails gives me LIFE so please do let me know what you think!!!!  
> Love you all <3


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